


every single minute (i'll be your hero)

by sarcastic_fina



Series: The Multiships of One Chloe Sullivan [44]
Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-05
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-10 00:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 150
Words: 311,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11679951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: A collection of Chloe/Oliver drabbles and oneshots.





	1. Life's Little Interludes (vignette)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a reminder that many of these stories were written as far back as **2008**. Since then, my writing style and views have greatly changed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere in between fighting crime and being the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, life happened.

Chloe stood patiently outside of a tall red brick building. She leaned back against one of the walls that lined the large steps leading to the front door. She glanced down at her wrist watch once again; only a few minutes left. Her foot tapped against the ground and she brushed away the strands of blonde hair that fell into her eyes as the wind blew around her. She heard quick footsteps approaching and looked up, a smile tugging up her lips.

“Hey Sidekick,” Oliver greeted, grinning as he came to a stop next to her. “Long time no see. What are you doing out here?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Just waiting on someone.”

He moved to stand next to her and leaned back against the wall, his shoulder brushing hers. “Yeah? Is it a _male_ someone?” his tone teased.

She smiled. “Only the most important male in my life!”

Lifting a hand, he put it over his chest with a wounded expression. “Oh, that hurt!” he said dramatically.

Laughing, she rolled her eyes at his antics. Her foot scuffed the ground and she looked up at him, her cheeks flushed half from the wind and half from the intense look on his face. Those eyes… She felt her stomach squirm and she bit her lip.

In the background, a sharp bell could be heard ringing.

He reached a hand out and brushed her hair behind her ear, his fingers stroking the side of her face. “This mean you’re busy for dinner?” he asked lowly.

She leaned into his touch as it slid down her face and along the curve of her neck. “I might be able to work you in,” she replied, her mouth quirking. “What time?”

His eyes thinned with thought and his head tipped to the side. “Let’s say five. I’ll cook.”

She nodded. “I’m there Chef Boyardee.”

They shared a grin, but as the scuffle of feet could be heard they turned their attention to the person approaching.

“Mom! Dad! Guess what I learned today,” their seven year old son shouted to them excitedly.

He took Chloe’s hand and shrugged the straps of his backpack off his shoulder as his dad tugged it off to hold for him. Oliver smoothed his hand over his young son’s blond hair and grinned at the excited expression on his face.

“Where’d you park the car?” his wife wondered.

“Just around the corner,” he said, pointing.

Their son skipped between them, a hand held by either of them. Unable to hold back his news, he blurted loudly, “I know where _babies_ come from!”

Oliver tried to hide his smile as he and Chloe exchanged looks.

Hopping happily between them, he looked up with a very sage expression. “It all starts when a man and a woman fall in love and get married…”

Oliver had a pretty good idea how it all ended. He winked at his wife who grinned at him, shaking her head.


	2. Life's Little Interludes (vignette)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She loved moments like this.

Chloe woke up abruptly, blinking wildly into the dimness of the room. She rolled over slightly, as if to get up from the bed, but the arm around her waist tightened and tugged her until she was back to square one. With a slight smile, she turned over to stare at the half-asleep face of her husband. She could tell by the twitch of his lips that he knew she was watching him but refused to get up. She snuggled in closer and lifted a hand to trace his profile with her fingertips. His arm drew her even nearer and her bare leg slid between his, thighs pressed together, bodies molded intimately.

Ten years they’d been married and she  _swore_ he got more handsome by the day. A wrinkle or scar appeared every once in awhile, but he was still just as genuinely dashing in looks as he was in personality. Stubborn as hell, too, she noticed as he continued to lay in a half-doze while she grew more awake by the second. They’d had a loooong week that he had easily talked her into a short nap while their son was at school. Between work and the Justice League and then Jamie had a school play he needed their help practicing for and Lois— Her eyes shot open. The play!

“Oh no,” she said, rolling away from Oliver who was so surprised by the abrupt change he didn’t have time to pull her back to bed. She ran her fingers through her mussed hair, looking around for a clock. “No, no, no, he’s going to be so upset!”

“Who?” Oliver asked, sitting up in bed and rubbing his face as he yawned.

“Jamie’s play is tonight, Ollie. Get up, get dressed, let’s go!” she half-shouted, rushing around the room and searching for something else to wear. Between convincing her to nap and actually napping, he’d stripped her of most of her clothes and she  _knew_ the school wouldn’t appreciate her showing up in panties and a worn t-shirt.

“Shit,” she heard Oliver mutter and couldn’t be bothered to chastise him for his language as she was thinking the same thing.

She tugged on a pair of pants and finger-brushed here hair as quick as she could. No make-up, there was no time. They had fifteen minutes to get to the school, find a seat, and pretend they hadn’t almost missed it.

She glared at Oliver when all he had to do was pull on a shirt. His hair always looked attractively messy. He simply smiled at her in response and they hurried out of the room, putting their shoes on and grabbing her purse before they raced to the car. She threw him the keys and climbed in the passenger seat, using the mirror on the sun visor to check her face. There was a little sleep clustered at the corners of her eyes and she looked rather blotchy. The dark marks beneath her eyes were a little less noticeable since her nap but she still wished she had some concealer on her.

“You look great,” Oliver assured from the driver’s seat.

“I look like I just rolled out of bed and dressed in whatever was lying on the floor before running out,” she replied wryly, grinning anyway.

He took her hand instead of commenting; knowing well enough that saying more would likely get him in trouble.

“I  _told_ you having that nap was a bad idea,” she reminded, thumb stroking the top of his hand absently.

He rolled his eyes. “You stopped complaining as soon as your head hit the pillow,” he reminded.

She scoffed. “I was preoccupied with you undressing me.”

“Just trying to make you more comfortable,” he said in a not-so-innocent voice.

“Yeah, I couldn’t wait to go to sleep with you kissing my legs from top to bottom. It was incredibly  _relaxing_ ,” she snarked.

He laughed, shaking his head as he turned the car down toward the school, driving a little faster than usual. “We’ll repeat the process tonight and this time I’ll be sure to exhaust you entirely,” he promised.

She smirked, but it slid away as they parked next to the school and found the area quite deserted. “Oh no,” she said, biting her lip. “You think it’s started?”

“Only one way to find out, Sidekick,” he said with a sigh, climbing out of the car.

He took her hand as she rounded the vehicle to walk at his side. They hurried up the brick wall lined stairs and down the halls, her heels clicking loudly. They could hear a ruckus in the gymnasium ahead of them and quietly tugged the door open, sliding in as covertly as they could. The area was dimmed everywhere but over the stage, where large lights beamed down to showcase the young children dressed up and waiting to show off their acting skills.

A hand lifted to wave at them and Chloe pointed so Oliver could see. Victor, Bart, AC, Clark and Lois were all sitting in a row of seats, two saved to the side of them.

“I can’t believe you’re late to your own kids play!” Lois said in a loud whisper.

“Car trouble,” Oliver replied, frowning at her as they took their seats.

Chloe opened her purse and handed him the video camera.

Lois lifted a disbelieving brow. “Yeah, right!” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Is this the same ‘ _car trouble_ ’ that had you two late for the parent-teacher interviews last week?” She smirked knowingly.

Chloe simply cleared her throat, eyes turning sideways as she remembered the afternoon that wasn’t spent  _napping_  at all.

“You took a nap, didn’t you?” Clark asked.

Chloe glanced up at him in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“Jamie warned us you guys would be late. Said, and these are his words not mine: ‘Mom’s been sleepy lately and daddy always makes her nap when she gets like that. Says she gets real cranky but if he holds her, she’s as mean as a kitten!’” Clark smirked as Chloe’s mouth opened in surprise and Oliver tried to hide a snicker.

“No kidding,” Chloe uttered, shaking her head.

Clark lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Bet us five bucks each you’d make it just in time.”

“You take the bet?” Oliver asked, lifting an amused brow.

He shook his head, grinning. “Not me,” he told them rather proudly as his wife rolled her eyes.

Bart, Victor and AC frowned at their leader.

“I demand a refund!” Bart told him.

“SHHH!” someone from behind shouted.

“Dude, nothing’s even happening yet!” Bart said, turning around to glare into the dark crowd.

A sharp squeal came from the mic before an older woman beamed at them. “Good evening and welcome to the first play of StarCity elementary this year!”

Oliver’s hand slid into his wife’s lap where she clasped it with both of hers. She grinned up at her little boy as he stood next to a few of his friends, rocking back and forth in his Robin Hood outfit, his blonde hair popping out from beneath his green cap. She was so proud he made the lead. Oliver lifted the camera with one hand, grinning as Jamie waved at him and gave him a thumbs up. She glanced at Oliver from the corner of her eyes. She loved moments like this. He squeezed her hand as the play began before lifting it slightly to run the back of his knuckles over the slightly round curve of her stomach, grinning. She smiled at him softly as he turned his attention back to their son. There would be many more days like this in the near future.


	3. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver’s daughter wants to date.

 

Amelia “Mia” Queen was fifteen years old and about to ask her father a question he hoped would never arise. She weighed her options, watching him covertly from the doorway to the kitchen. He was at the table, his coffee in front of him and his newspaper in hand. Freshly showered and obviously in a good mood (she knew because the comics were already read and lying next to her mom’s steaming coffee. Currently, her mother was struggling with her younger brother to get him ready for school. He _hated_ Mondays. She was pretty sure her mom hated them more.

At fifteen, Mia was the only girl in her grade to never date. Not once. Not even a date to a dance in elementary school. It wasn’t that she was disliked or cut off from her school mates. She had a large group of friends and she loved school for its social life more than what she could learn. So far, there weren’t any boys that had caught her attention enough for her to do this. That was until she met Ben – the cute boy that sat behind in her Math class. He was funny and adorable and maybe a little too confident for his own good. And he had asked her to a movie that Friday. She nearly fainted she was so ecstatic. Until she realized that her dad would _never_ let her go.

He was wary of boys entirely. He didn’t let them look at her if he could help it. The only males allowed around her were her league of uncles; Bart, Roy, AC, Clark, and Victor. She’d add Bruce to the list, but he hated being considered uncle material and so he was just Bruce. The brooding, stoic man that bought her the best presents she could ever ask for. He never forgot a birthday or a big milestone. During her grade seven graduation, he sent her a car that would take her and her three closest girlfriends for a spa weekend. Her parents thought it was excessive but she wasn’t turning away the gift and when she next saw him she nearly strangled him with her hug. He acted as if he didn’t care but she knew he did. He was her uncle at heart, even if he refused to say it out loud.

She figured it was best to ask her dad if she could go when her uncles weren’t around. They’d all come up with elaborate plans to “take care of her.” Follow her, bug her, hide a tracking device in one of her shoes. They were tricky that way! She just knew Bart would sit behind them at the movie and every time he thought Ben was getting too close he’d interrupt. “Back it up, buddy. Lemme see those hands!” he’d tell him, eyes suspicious. And the whole date would be entirely ruined.

She took a deep breath. Yes, the best idea would be to beg her dad to trust her and let her go out on this date.

“Something wrong, Mimi?” she heard her dad ask and she realized her cover was blown. He looked up at her from behind his newspaper, a brow lifting in question. He was the only one who used that nickname and though she usually groaned in public, she didn’t mind so much in private.

She lifted a shoulder and walked over to sit down at the table. She didn’t bother trying to sit in her mom’s chair, despite the fact that it was closer and it would give her puppy dog eyes better advantage. Nobody was allowed to sit in her mom’s chair; it was the unspoken rule of the house. Wherever her dad was, the place next to him was reserved for his wife. She’d thought it was excessive once, until she learned that he’d nearly lost her. Years before she was even born, her mother had almost died. She didn’t know what from, her parents refused to discuss it. But it opened her eyes a little more to just how close her parents could be. She knew then why her dad’s eyes always searched for her if she was gone for longer than five minutes and why he always had to be holding her hand, as if scared that if he wasn’t touching her, she’d disappear. They'd been married seventeen years and she'd never known two people more in love.

“Well, see there’s this great movie playing this Friday…” she began, her voice as innocent as could be.

He nodded, eyes set on hers, seriously listening. She wished her mom was there, then he’d be at least somewhat distracted and might by some off chance say yes simply because he didn’t want to admit he hadn’t been listening. It was rare, but it happened. When he got around her mom, the outside world ceased to exist. It came in handy sometimes and bugged her others. She was like any other kid; she did _not_ want to see her parents making eyes at each other. Bleck!

“Okay,” he said, shaking his head slowly, not quite comprehending. “You get your allowance on Friday, Mimi, I don’t see the problem.”

She felt herself flush and shifted in her seat, eyes darting around in discomfort. “Well, you see… Uhm… There’s… There’s this boy.”

Her dad’s brows rose in the most comedic face she’d ever seen on him. His jaw went slack and he paled a bit, tipping his head to the side. “A boy,” he repeated slowly before blinking at her.

“Yeah,” she said nodding. She smiled. “His name’s Ben and he’s in my Math class and he’s reeeeeally cute! He’s got blue eyes and brown hair and—“

He lifted a hand for her to stop and she closed her mouth, realizing she’d probably said more than he wanted to know. He wasn’t like her mom, he didn’t want to hear about crushes or cute boys or the latest fashion trend. “And this boy asked you out to the movie? As in a group thing?”

He looked so hopeful she almost didn’t want to admit the truth. But, she shook her head. Honesty was the policy of the house, she knew. And she never could lie to her dad. He was a human lie detector. Ever since she was just a little girl and she told him she hadn’t eaten all the candy in the dish. He decided her tummy ache was punishment enough but after that he always took everything she said with a grain of salt.

“See, I really like him and he…” She lifted a shoulder. “Well, he asked me to the movie as sort of… A date, you know?” She was pretty sure she was blushing. How could it be so awkward to ask her dad while it had been so much fun to tell her mom?

Oliver took on his stoic expression, a seriously thoughtful look passing his eyes. His coffee and paper were put to the side as he took in the question she’d asked. She waited patiently, her knee jumping with hope. She gave him her best look; doe eyes, lip stuck out slightly, seriously desperate for him to let her have this little moment.

“Have you asked your mom?” he wondered, stare inquisitive.

She sighed. “Yeah and she already did a background check on the whole family.” She crossed her arms, lifting a brow in an expression that quite resembled her father. “My biggest threat is his grandma. She’s handy with the lawn shears because of her background in landscaping.” She rolled her eyes.

Her dad chuckled slightly, amused by her candor. “We’re only looking at for you, sweetie.”

“I know,” she sighed, her shoulders slumping. “But come on, dad. He’s fifteen! Same age as me. And I know what I’m doing. It’s just a harmless movie.”

He stared at her, expression hard. “What time is the movie?”

She felt triumph on the horizon. “Seven.”

“When’s it end?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Nineish,” she said, frowning with uncertainty.

“And it’s just a movie? Nothing afterwards. Metaphorically, if I said yes, he’d drop you off right after?” he asked, eyes boring into hers, wanting the truth.

She nodded before lifting a hand. “Well, his mom would drop me off. He can’t drive yet.”

He leaned back in his chair thoughtfully; face a mask she couldn’t read. It was the longest minute of her life! “I want to meet him before you leave.”

She nearly leapt out of her chair with excitement, but instead grinned at him before rounding the table and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said before kissing his cheek.

Her mom entered the room, a knowing smile on her face and Dillon trailing behind her. “So?”

“Daddy said I could go,” she half-squealed to her mom.

She simply smiled.

“Go where?” Dillon asked, looking up wonderingly. At eight, he was always asking questions and getting into trouble. He bypassed the two women to the table, crawling up and digging into the pancakes waiting for him, syrup smudging on his face. Oliver passed him a napkin that he wiped over his face before smothering it once more in syrup.

“Your sister is going on her first date,” Chloe Queen announced to her son. She reached out, her arm wrapping around Mia’s shoulder, fingers delicately stroking her hair like they’d done since birth.

“Like you and daddy do on Saturdays?” Dillon asked, mouth full of pancake.

“Yep.”

He made a face. “Is she gonna kiss like you and daddy do?”

“No,” Oliver said, frowning.

“Good. Cause that’s gross!” He stuck his tongue out at his older sister before licking the syrup up from around his lips.

“Shut up, Dill Pickle. One day you’ll go on a date with a girl, you know!” she told him, head resting on her mom’s shoulder and a sneer on her face as she held back the urge to stick her tongue out at her younger brother.

“Nu uh! Girls are gross! They have giant cooties on them!” he told her, lifting his arms to show her how big they were.

“Your mom has cooties?” his dad asked, looking shocked as he turned to his son.

He shook his head. “No, mom’s don’t have them. Only other girls.” He nodded sagely before filling his mouth once more.

“Chew carefully, Dillon,” his mom chastised.

He rolled his eyes before opening his mouth to show her his chewing.

She frowned, unamused. “We can go back to cereal, mister.”

He closed his mouth with a quick snap and ate carefully as requested.

Mia stood up, smiling. “I’m gonna go call Chelsea and get her to come over so we can find what outfit I should wear,” she announced before turning around and fleeing from the room.

Oliver turned to his wife with a defeated expression. With a soft smile, she crossed the room and slid into his lap. “She’s growing up,” he muttered, resting his head against hers as it leaned onto his shoulder, forehead pressed to his neck.

“It was bound to happen,” Chloe told him, her hand rubbing his chest soothingly.

“Yeah, but it was so fast!” he said, stroking her side affectionately.

She chuckled. “It’s been fifteen years, Ollie. How old would you prefer she be before she dated?”

He scowled. “Is never an option?” he asked.

She laughed.

“I’ll never date, dad!” Dillon told him proudly.

Oliver turned to his son, smiling. “I appreciate it buddy. But I have a feeling your view is going to change when you’re older.”

“Nope,” he said, lifting his chin and shaking his head. He wiped his face with his sleeve and smiled. “I’m gonna stay here with you and mom until you’re way old and I’ll never leave you!”

Chloe giggled against her husband’s neck before lifting her head to smile at her son. “All right, but if that happens, you’re gonna have to start getting dressed on your own in the morning, mister. None of this sleeping in and then telling me you’re too sick to get up.”

He groaned, slumping back in his chair. “I don’t like clothes,” he whined.

Oliver laughed. “You’re mom didn’t always like clothes either.”

“Oliver!” she chastised, slapping his shoulder.

He laughed, hugging her against him.

“You didn’t, mom?” Dillon asked, ever the innocent one.

His mom flushed slightly, clearing her throat. “Eat your breakfast, little man.”

Dillon sighed, shaking his head before he went back to his pancakes. He’d never understand his parents.

They went back to whispering, kissing in between their laughter, once again in their own little world. He’d never be like them. Girls were gross and he was sticking by his opinion. He didn’t get what was so great about it anyway. He wouldn’t want some girl sitting in his lap, getting in the way of his pancakes! And he wouldn’t want her sleeping in his bed, hogging the covers! Or cuddled up to him on the couch, whispering in his ear all the time while he was trying to watch his cartoons. Nope, girls were just a big hassle. He’d be fine without them. He had his mom to cuddle him when he wanted to be held and to kiss his ouchies like she did his dad’s. Yup, he didn’t need to go on any dates. He was set.


	4. Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was nervous; hadn't ever been this nervous before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **prompt** : ring

 

He was nervous; hadn't ever been this nervous before. He had a speech in his head, all worked out and written on a million and three copies of paper that he'd crumpled up and threw away when it just didn't feel right. The words weren't enough; they didn't say everything he wanted her to know. She knew he loved her, had for longer than he could remember, and wanted to forever. And this was the last step to it. He had the ring, right there in front of him, waiting in an open box. He didn't go so far as practicing kneeling, as Bart had told him he should. He knew how it would play out; or at least he hoped he did.

He'd propose, she'd cry but nod, and then all this nervousness could leave him. He wasn't used to this feeling; he'd gotten over his fears early on; had to in his line of work. But this was a big night; a huge one in fact. And everything had to be perfect. So he had the speech, memorized down to the last period, and he had the ring, perfect and elegant and not flashy but traditional; an emerald the color of her eyes with diamonds surrounding it. There was music in the background, dinner for two on the table, and despite the fact that his hands were shaking, the rest of him looked calm.

He practiced the words in his head. "Will you marry me?" He repeated them, over and over until he felt he had the right tone, the one that sounded not shaky but excited and hopeful. He drew the ring out of the box, played with it between his fingers. It would fit her perfectly; he'd measured against one of her other rings. He spent three hours at the jewelers, searching for the perfect fit. The one that said "Chloe" to him; the one that he could envision her wearing. Always. The one that would have _yes_ coming from her lips without pause. And then he spotted it, winking up at him and he bought it on sight.

"I hope you're not proposing to the salt shaker," came a voice from behind him. He looked up, realizing she was standing at his back, looking over his shoulder, while he held the ring out purposefully.

He couldn't form words, could only stare at her.

She walked around to stand next to him and tipped her head, those green eyes set on him patiently. "Oliver?" she asked, soft and tender.

And that speech he'd spent a week on; spent hours of sleepless nights grueling over until it was perfect, evaded him entirely. "Marry me, Sidekick." It wasn't even a question and there was no shake anymore; not in his body or his voice or anywhere. He was confident and comfortable and he knew, without a doubt, he was asking the right person.

She smiled at him; that large, bright Sullivan grin, and he knew her answer. She laughed slightly, leaning down and pressing her lips against his. "Yes," she said in between kisses. "Yes, yes, yes."

He drew her down into his lap, slipping the ring on her finger and kissing her deeply, passionately, thankfully. She was his and he was right, her ring looked perfect on her.  



	5. His True Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She_ was his destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #7 - Destiny

_She_ was his true destiny.

On this day, standing where he was, he knew that everything he believed, all that he'd fought for and trained himself to do, it was in fact just the path leading him to his true destiny. She'd call him sentimental, tease him as she tipped her head to one side and grinned at him, rolling her eyes like he was just doing it to make feel good. Like it was just another "I love you," in many. But it wasn't; he truly believed it. He believed that all those moments in his life, good and bad, had all been leading up to this; right here and now.

He stood in his black tux, his heart beating so loud in his chest he swore the guests around him could hear it. He didn't look to see; his eyes set on her up ahead, a vision in white. And that beaming grin of hers was staring at him, glowing along with the sheen of her green eyes. She walked too slow he decided. He kept his hand clasped over his wrist in front of him, licking his lips and swallowing tightly. He couldn't believe this day had really come, that she was still walking toward him. That of all the times involving death and life, fighting and peace, this day had finally greeted him on a beautiful July afternoon, the sun guiding her steps closer and closer to him, to their future.

He didn't hear Clark as he congratulated him from his side or even really feel the clap on the back Ray gave him. His full and entire attention was on _her_. Lois and Lana had already taken their place on the other side, holding their bouquets and grinning at their friend as she walked along, arm wrapped in Bart's as he escorted her toward him. Impulse grinned, whispering something to her, likely an offer to skip them off to some deserted island and ditch the fancy garb. She simply laughed, a lone, happy tear escaping down her cheek, her eyes still set ahead, connected to his.

Five years ago, he had no idea this was where his life was leading. He saw death and destruction ahead of him; a life filled with fighting for good, of losing those he loved and hoping next time might be better, of continuing on in the war for justice, against that of evil that seemed to replenish itself so easily. All those years ago, he let go of a woman he'd loved but couldn't trust and reminded himself that true love couldn't really be real or at least it wasn't for him. He was destined for a life of loneliness; of a hero whose only companion was his bow and arrow and the swell of his heart each time he did what he felt was right. But while it continued to be a driving force in his life, it wasn't _all_ of his life.

 _She_ was.

Working along next to him, never letting the darkness swallow him, fighting it off with her inner strength, the glow she carried so close to her heart. Healing him, with and without her powers. Picking him up, brushing him off, pushing him back into the fight and cheering him all the way. Donning her own suit, learning the moves as quick as she could, fighting next to him, raising her fist up high in the name of honor and justice. Her mind, her heart, her entire soul; bound together with his for all eternity. She wasn't just a cheerleader to heroes, but a hero in her own right. And when the day came to a close, he went home to her more often than night, finding one day that when she wasn't there, he missed her. And he rectified that as soon as he possibly could, getting the, "Never gonna happen, Leather Boy," when he asked for a date. But did he give up? Of course not. He pursued her until she finally gave in, let him into her heart and found maybe she did see something with him. Until they were never apart, never two separate entities again. They were each other and they liked it that way.

It was a rocky road at times; he'd seen her die, had her bring him back, watched as her cold, lifeless body lay still and somber until she finally arose, gasping for air and reaching for him in fear and gratitude. And he watched her fight and fall, lose that inner light of hers a few times, only to find it once more and rejuvenate her spirit until she was back up and fighting harder than she ever had before. They stood tall; together. Just like now, where they would vow to stay standing until death do them part.

And finally she was there, right in front of him, her hand slipping into his, their fingers threading. She passed her flowers back to Lois; he couldn't remember what they were called or even what color they were. Usually a man who took in everything in one glance, who remembered the most minute of details, he couldn't remember anything or see anything except her. Her and her fair skin, flushed lightly with the heat of the mid-summer temperature in their backyard. Her green eyes that were still filled with tears, ringed red and glittering with happiness. Her lips, a pale pink, untouched by lipstick, curved up in that grin she always gave him when she was experiencing the closest thing to utter euphoria.

He grinned back, just as large and free and happy.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of Oliver Jonas Queen and Chloe Ann Sullivan in holy matrimony..."

 _She_ was his true destiny.  



	6. Stubborn Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hers was a beauty overlooked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #002 - Beauty

Hers was a beauty overlooked.

Oliver Queen was a man of wealth; he'd been to the most exotic of places, met people in continents few could visit and was granted access to things that to many were just hopeless dreams. And all of these things compared nothing to when he really looked at _her_. He'd seen her more times than he could count really, but this time, this one moment, he set eyes on the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen in his life; wide and large and full of laughter and joy. Behind that smile was a face just as enigmatic, curtained by hair that he could tell by sight was soft. Down the slope of her neck, his eyes wandered, along her slim shoulders, the flat pale expanse of her chest to the perky handful of breasts being clung to by her green blouse. A curvy body with wide hips and a flat stomach, toned legs and small, high heeled feet. He let out a breath, blinking as if to make sure it wasn't a mirage. And then he was grinning, as if the truth had just slapped him and woken him up.

 _Chloe. Watchtower. Sidekick._ All aliases for perfection encased in a snarky little blonde filled with enough spunk to take on the underworld of crime all on her lonesome and write a scathing byline overnight.

"Hey! Oliver," she said, calling him out of his daze, snapping her fingers in front of his face. She smiled, lifting a brow. "Did Wonderwoman just stop in when I wasn't looking?"

"Wonder-who?"

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "Try to focus here, Hero. I need that sharp mind of yours in the game."

"I'm all yours," he replied with a lopsided smile.

She stared at him a moment, her brows furrowed before she shook her head. "Anyway..."

And then it started; he was on a mission, one of the greatest journeys he'd ever travel. Wooing Chloe Sullivan.

She wasn't easy; not by a long shot.

The "You busy tonight, Chlo? I know a nice restaurant," was usually met with an amused quirk of her brow, "Keep your money, Queen. I've got too much work to think about having you wining and dining me. I hear Dinah's free though." Brick wall.

So he tried the more indirect route of sending a dozen roses to her office, or stocking up on the best in coffee so she was well caffeinated during and outside of missions. These were all met with a common thanks, but he saw the flowers on Lois' desk the next day and she made sure to share the coffee with everyone. So then he figured maybe the straight forward route would work.

"I'd like to take you out on a real date. No work, no strings attached; nothing. I'd just... like to get to know you better."

She stared at him, blinked. "Why didn't you just say that?"

He smiled; who knew it'd be that easy?

"No," she said flatly, shaking her head.

"What?" He lifted a brow, opened his mouth to ask more and then closed it. He scratched his temple in frustrated confusion. "Not even going to give me a try?" He laughed slightly, still surprised.

"Nope," she said, smiling slightly before she patted his shoulder. "If I give you a try, I might actually consider a second date." She lifted a shoulder. "And that can't happen."

"Right..." He nodded. "Uh, why?"

"Various reasons, one being Lois, another being work. I can think up a few more and leave the list on your desk. For now, just trust me." She grinned at him gently. "You're a great guy, Oliver. Why don't you try asking Dinah out?"

He sighed. "I don't _want_ Dinah."

She stroked his cheek with her thumb and he felt his heart thud in his chest, his stomach doing acrobatics. "Those feelings you think you have, it's just a crush... It'll fade." She stepped back, grabbed her laptop bag and turned on her heel, leaving his apartment.

Determined, he didn't let her stop him. He didn't ask Dinah out and his feelings didn't fade. More than that, they grew. He didn't let her run away from him; didn't let her list all of her excuses and walk away from something he _knew_ would be good. Instead of a bouquet of roses, delivered by some unknown person, he showed up at Isis with one lone tulip - her favorite - waited for her to arrive and then tucked it in her hair, right behind her ear. "Have a good day," he told her before leaving.

Instead of getting her the best in coffee, the most expensive he could find, he found which she liked, made it just the way she enjoyed it and hand delivered it each night before they left for missions or when he knew she was having a particularly hectic day. He stopped asking her out, stopped suggesting dinner or lunch, coffee or drinks. And when a month had passed, a tulip for each day to brighten her every morning, he found her standing on his balcony when he got home from patrolling.

"You're stubborn," she said quietly, staring up at the sky.

"Reminds me of someone," he replied, lifting a brow before he moved to stand next to her.

They stood in silence, the cool night air surrounding them, making her hair flutter around her. He was close enough that any movement made their arms brush. Instead of staring up at the sky, he gazed at her, at the way her cheeks were pink with the cold and her face was scrubbed of all make up. Just Chloe; all her. She'd been biting her lip; she did that sometimes when she was nervous. He could see it was worn and puffy from her teeth. His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out and soothe it.

"Why me?" she wondered, drawing him from his thoughts.

"Why not?" he returned easily.

She snorted, looking over at him in disbelief. "You dated Lois," she told him, shaking her head. "Beautiful, statuesque Lois. You've dated supermodels, heiresses, some of the most exotic women on the earth." She scoffed, her eyes widening. "What would make you want to date _me_?"

He stared at her a moment, head tipped to the side. "You make me laugh."

"What?" Her brows furrowed.

"You're full of life, you're snarky, you're too curious for your own good." He shrugged. "You stand taller than everybody else purely on inner strength. You live off coffee and bagels and you'd rather spend your time helping the world than helping yourself. You look at me and you see Oliver. I know you see the hero and the green leather and all that, but more than that, you see me. You're not afraid to tease me or act like yourself. You're just you." He licked his lips. "And you're beautiful; whether you see it or not. Your eyes and your smile and the way you hold yourself. You're absolutely, undeniably, beautiful." He reached out, cupped her cheek, felt her chin quiver and lightly stroked his fingers beneath her eye. "And you can keep thinking you're not, but I know..."

She blinked, her eyes wet with a sheen of tears. "You're..." She shook her head, laughing awkwardly.

"I'm not wrong."

She stared, as if trying to find some kind of lie in his eyes but couldn't.

He smiled lightly. "Just because you're overlooked doesn't mean there's not somebody here to find you."

"God, you are just... way too good at this," she breathed out shakily.

He grinned, hand falling to wrap around her neck, drawing her closer.

"Don't think just because you make a girl feel beautiful that she'll fall at your feet, Queen," she responded quickly, lifting a stubborn brow at her.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Sidekick," he replied before swooping down and capturing her mouth.

She sighed lightly, her tongue tangling with his, her arms wrapping around his neck, their bodies flush together.

She drew back, licking her lips. "And dating or not, you can't put limits on me. I'm still Watchtower; I need to be a part of things."

"No restrictions, got it." He leaned back in, captured her mouth and kissed her thoroughly, his hands burying in her hair. She moaned, her fingers digging into his neck. She tasted sweet and hot and full of life. Their noses bumped, her bangs brushing against his forehead.

She pulled back again, panting. "And I want a date night. One night in the whole week that's just... Us. No work; Queen Industries or otherwise."

He grinned. "Okay." He leaned forward and then stopped. "Anything else or can I can kiss you ‘til your weak in the knees?"

"Half way there, Hero," she replied with a chuckle before dragging him down, their lips slanting together once more.

Success! His journey of wooing her had been finished and a new one began. Loving her. Beauty aside, there was a woman in his arms, meeting his lips passionately, that deserved everything he could give her and he was going to. For as long as her stubborn heart would allow him.  
  



	7. Seduction Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He choked on air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : Black Dress

He choked on air.

She stared at him funny, head tipped to the side in confusion before she returned to searching through her clutch for something. He, on the other hand, was trying to remember how to speak. It was supposed to be a job; they'd go in, play the part of beauty and the billionaire, sneak away, gather priceless information, and get out. But then, he hadn't quite thought it through. Because going to a huge gala meant taking only the most capable person with him, meaning Chloe Sullivan was his date. And being that it was, in fact, a gala, meant that she was wearing a dress. A black one. And she looked good enough to die for.

"Oliver?" She lifted a brow. "You okay, Hero? Are you having second thoughts?"

"NO! No!" he protested quickly, finding his ability to speak buried somewhere behind his drool. "I- I was just admiring your... sense of style."

She smiled slightly. "Is that right?"

He nodded, clearing his throat before holding out his arm. "Ready to go, Sidekick?"

She grinned, taking his arm. "Of course." She glanced up at him. "If you can handle a night with me and infamous black dress that is..."

He smirked. "That depends... Is there a chance it'll be coming off at any time?"

He reveled in his senses returning; their easy banter was back on track and she was no longer one upping him with her beauty.

Her lips curled coyly. "That all depends on how you play your cards, Queen." She winked, stepping on to the elevator.

She stood, grinning triumphantly as she watched the numbers descend above, taking them closer and closer to the ground floor. With moments to spare, he leaned over, clasped her chin, turned her head and kissed her. His arm slid around her waist, drew her up against him and he tangled his tongue with hers, letting them dance easily together. He was right; the fiery passion he always saw in her eyes was exactly what she put into everything else. She moaned softly, her body going lax against him, as if no longer putting up any sort of fight.

As the elevator dinged, they parted and he watched her, standing with her body at an arch toward him, her dress looking even more appealing against her taut form. She licked her lips and panted as she stared up at him with heated green eyes. "Well played."

He smirked. "We have a whole a night ahead of us... You haven't seen me at my best yet."

She stood up, gaining her balance once more and stepped off the elevator. "Looking forward to it," she tossed over her shoulder, walking toward the front doors of the building to the waiting limo. He watched, lip caught in his teeth, his eyes never straying from her beautiful body, dressed in a black gown he couldn't wait to take off. Catching up to her easily, he promised himself he'd be on his A game. There was quite the reward in the end for him.


	8. Satisfaction Guaranteed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then she smelled it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : Coffee

Chloe groaned, closing her eyes tighter against the sun peeking through the blinds. She tugged the green sheets up closer, hoping to keep morning away for another hour or so. She knew she had to get up; work was always waiting. But she could enjoy just a few more minutes, she figured. Besides... she needed coffee; a nice strong cup, two creams and one sugar. Mmm... She didn't have the energy to get up, however, and instead rolled over, arm reaching for the warm body that usually slept right next to her. As soon as she found empty space, she frowned, pushing the sheet down and opening her sleepy eyes to look around for the man she had been hoping to cuddle up to and ignore the new day for as long as possible.

And then she smelled it...

She inhaled deeply, eyes falling shut in pure anticipation. She licked her lips, moving to sit in the center of the bed, dropping the sheet and forgetting all about the pesky sun and the morning that beckoned her awake. She opened her eyes to look up at Oliver grinning down at her, passing her a large mug of her favorite coffee. She brought it up to her mouth, taking a nice long whiff of the strong scent before holding it to her mouth, wakefulness in every drop that slid down her throat. He made it just how she liked; she nearly moaned in gratitude.

"Have I mentioned lately how much I _love_ you and your early morning service?" she asked, shoulders slumping with satisfaction.

"If I knew all it'd take was a cup of coffee, I would've tried it a lot earlier," he replied, sitting down on his bed next to her. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her hands around the mug to warm them.

"I was hoping to sleep in," she murmured, letting her eyes fall to half-mass. The only scent that rivaled coffee was him. She'd bet her laptop on it. "But _somebody_ got up early and curiosity woke me up."

He chuckled lowly. "I wasn't gone a half hour and you already missed me?" he teased.

She glanced up at him, smiling. "If you bring me coffee every morning, I'll happily enjoy the empty bed."

He lifted a brow. "I'm so easily replaced," he drawled, sliding a hand up and down her bare back.

"Coffee can't do _everything_ you do." She licked her lips. "It's not _nearly_ as satisfying."

"Yeah?" He took the mug from her and placed it on the bedside table before leaning her back on the bed. "And how do I satisfy you better?" he queried.

Reaching for the buttons of his shirt and sliding them out one by one, she smirked up at him. "Let me list the ways..."


	9. Dottie's Diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He assumed their first date would be something traditional. He should've known better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : Milkshake and Marry

Their first date, he assumed would be something traditional; maybe coffee or a casual lunch. He should have known better. Despite their double lives, he figured she'd go the regular route when it came to dating. He knew her as Watchtower and Sidekick, but he wanted more to know the woman behind the hero and so, after months of banter and flirtation, he finally asked her. "Do you have plans for tomorrow, Chloe?"

And, in typical fashion for the former investigative reporter, she promptly replied. "That depends on who's asking... Oliver Queen, CEO, Green Arrow, leather-fetish hero, or regular Ollie..."

He smirked. "All three."

With a grin of approval over his answer, she nodded. "I think I can free up my schedule. But if that multiple personality disorder of yours gets any worse, we're gonna have to talk."

With a laugh, they agreed to meet the next afternoon at a place she knew and he'd never heard of. Being him, he had immediately thought of the nicest restaurant in Metropolis, but she'd quickly squashed those ideas. "Dottie's Diner on Fourth," she told him, winking before she slung her purse over her shoulder and walked away with an attractive sway to her hips.

Diners weren't his usual place to eat, but he made an exception. More than anything, he wanted this date. There were few who understood him and all that he entailed, but Chloe knew the long and short version and she wasn't running for the hills, so that was a good sign. When he stepped inside, the décor left something to be desired, but he refused to back down. He spotted her in a booth, the seats cracked with age and lack of grooming, still he sat down without protest and grinned at her.

"You came," she said, smiling back.

"As if I'd pass up on a chance to dine with the illustrious Miss Sullivan," he returned easily.

She chuckled. "Illustrious is one way to put it."

A plump waitress stopped in to ask what they'd have and after a quick scan of the menu, they ordered. She walked off, disinterested and tired while he turned his attention back to the blonde sitting across from him. "What do you think?" she wondered, glancing around.

"I think it's... in need of an update," he admitted honestly.

She grinned broadly. "Very true."

"How'd you find it?" It didn't look like the type of place she would spend her time either; there wasn't much to draw her attention. Very few patrons and a staff that had seen better days. It wasn't even on her route to or from the Daily Planet or Isis. So he was at a loss as to how she came across the drab diner.

She shrugged. "Not sure really. Could've been when I was wandering the city. All I know is I have an urge to stop in every few weeks..."

He couldn't imagine why.

A moment later, their drinks were set in front of them. And an unusually quick time later, their lunch too was set on the table. He refused to look disgusted, because he wanted this date to turn out to be more than this. He liked her; had for ages and one crappy diner wasn't going to change that. Although he vowed to show her much better eating establishment as soon as humanly possible.

The food was all that he expected; cheap, greasy and didn't know the meaning of healthy in any way, shape, or form. His burger was overcooked, his fries were soggy, and his coffee was stale. But the company was great and in the end, after pushing away the lackluster meal, she offered the only redeeming trait in the entire place.

"Give this a try," she told him, holding the straw of her vanilla milkshake out. It looked entirely too good to be surrounded by all the eye sores in the diner; creamy vanilla with a cherry sitting center on the whip cream.

He eyed it still, not sure if he wanted to take yet another chance, but she grinned at him and he gave a slight sigh before leaning forward to wrap his lips around the straw. The first drink was like heaven; he nearly moaned. It tasted so good; like childhood and innocence and perfection, all wrapped into one.

"These are the only reason I come back," she admitted, lifting a shoulder. "I've been craving one all week."

 _Now_ he knew why she kept coming back.

She stole her straw back and took a nice long sip before licking her lips. "You're lucky," she told him, lifting a brow. "I haven't even introduced Clark to the wonders of the shakes here."

Food forgotten, bad surroundings completely ignored, they spent the rest of the afternoon over a milkshake and by the time they left, he knew two things... That was the _best_ date of his entire life and one day, he was going to marry the woman who introduced him to the most incredible drink ever made. They made plans to have dinner soon, at a place of _his_ choosing, but he decided then and there, that they'd serve vanilla milkshakes at the wedding rather than champagne. She laughed when he told her, taking his hand as they walked down the street from Dottie's Diner, the most unusual place for the start of their budding relationship.


	10. Discoveries of the Good Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark finds Bart doing a little spying and making a startling discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #005 - Discovery

 

"What are you doing?" Clark asked, staring at the short speedster as he knelt on the floor, peering around the corner.

"Shhh!" he exclaimed, lifting a finger to his mouth for emphasis. "Recon."

"In Oliver's apartment?" His brow rose, arms lifting to cross over his chest. "You're spying aren't you?"

"Spying... Recon... Po- _tay_ -to/Po- _tah-_ to." He shrugged. "Besides... Lois is paying me twenty bucks and I want a burrito or six."

Rolling his eyes, Clark sighed before walking forward to see what he was staring at. "It's just Oliver and Chloe..."

"Yeah, dude... Duh. Nobody else is here." Bart rolled his eyes.

"Well why would Lois want to know what Oliver and Chloe are doing?" he wondered, baffled.

Bart stared at him. "You serious?" At Clark's frown, he grinned. "Uh, ‘cause Boss man has been mackin' on Chloelicious for like... _ever_."

"What?" He shook his head. "Oliver's not interested in Chloe that way. They're... friends."

"Yeah," Bart snorted. "Really, _really_ good friends." His brows lifted for emphasis before he nodded toward the couple.

Clark stared at them a moment, head tipped in disbelief. He saw two friends; a man and a woman. Oliver's hand ran from Chloe's shoulder down her arm, cupping her elbow; that could be considered friendly. Chloe reached out, her fingers playing with the buttons of Oliver's dress shirt as she smirked up at him, brow lifted.

"What are they saying?" Bart wondered.

"I can't invade their privacy like that," he said, shaking his head.

"Aw, come on, just a little bit?" he encouraged hopefully.

Clark sighed, focusing his ears. He'd have his proof then; they were probably talking about the League or a mission or possibly Isis. Nothing big, he was sure.

"You're going to get us caught one of these days," Chloe murmured.

Oliver shrugged. "Pretty sure it won't come as much of a surprise."

"Is that right?" She cocked her hip to one side. "What makes you think I'd give in to your advances, Queen?"

"Experience," he replied, lifting a hand to run his forefinger slowly down her cheek.

Chloe took a step closer, her body nearly flush with his. "I'm not like any other woman you've been with, Ollie."

He stared down at her adoringly, lips turned up at the corners. "Trust me, I know, Sidekick." His hand slid around the side of neck, cupping her head, fingers threading in her hair. He leaned forward, their noses brushing. "If I kick Bart and Clark out, how long before you think you give in to me?"

She licked her lower lip. "You think there's any whip cream left?"

He laughed deeply before kissing her.

Clark's eyes widened, brows lifting and he quickly turned his hearing back to normal. "Uh..."

Bart clapped his shoulder with teasing comfort. "It was bound to happen, man. Sorry to jet, but I got twenty bucks and a lot of burritos to pick up. Later." He was gone in a flash and Clark was left standing dumbfounded, lost in his thoughts.

"Hey Clark," Oliver's voice interrupted him. "You look like you just made a startling discovery, Boy Scout. Anything I should be worried about?"

"What? Uh, no, no..." He smiled slightly, shaking his head. "I think it could be a good thing actually."

Oliver nodded. "Great, well, uh... Sorry to kick you out, but I'm pretty beat and I think I'm just gonna head to bed."

Amused, Clark tried to hide it, nodding before he turned to walk toward the elevator. "Is Chloe here still? I should check and see if she's heading back to Smallville..."

Oliver glanced at his bedroom door for just a split second before shrugging at Clark. "I think you just missed her, actually. But I'm sure she's fine."

"Right." He lifted a hand to wave goodbye and stepped onto the elevator, taking it to the main floor. He shook his head to himself. He meant it though; after getting over the shock, he really did think that Chloe and Oliver could be something good. He hoped so, at least. Chloe deserved her own hero, the kind that would really take care of her and understand everything in her life. And Oliver Queen fit that description perfectly.


	11. And More (vignette)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everything you wanted, Sidekick?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : Glasses

 

Glasses clinked, champagne was raised, and cheers of congratulations rang out.

 _"Finally!_ "Lois exclaimed in the background.

With a laugh, Chloe wrapped her arms around his neck and let him sweep her up against his chest bridal style; it was fitting after all. He carried her to the limo waiting outside and she laughed as she saw Lois racing after them, pushing Clark out of the way so she could get the last word in.

"I want souvenirs, pictures, and dirty details when you get back, Sullivan!" she shouted, waving her hand as she grinned at her younger cousin.

Chloe shook her head. "It's Queen now, Lane. Get it right!"

She ducked her head as Oliver put her down on the leather seat and grinned widely as the door shut. She could still hear them clapping and hurrahing over the wedding. Breathing a sigh, Oliver leaned back against the seat and took her hand in his. "Everything you wanted, Sidekick?" he asked her, his warm brown eyes meeting hers tenderly.

Reaching for the bottle of wine and two glasses, she crawled into his lap, her dress riding up her thighs and licked her lips. "And more," she told him sincerely


	12. Apology Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe resolves to stay angry, but she's not very good at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : Jewelry

Chloe stared at the small box sitting center on her desk and chewed her lip. Her hands twitched to reach out and see what laid inside, curiosity always was her downfall, but she refused to move. "Jewelry?" she said into the dark room. "You're losing your edge."

"If you can spot me that easily, I really am," came the deep, distorted voice she knew so well.

"Yeah, well, when you spend as much time around heroes as I do, you get used to it." Her lips firmed. "Getting used to those same heroes and their disappearing acts takes a little more work."

He sighed and she heard the flick before the distorter was turned off. "It was an emergency."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "It always is." She remained firm despite the fact that she really did understand why he had to go. It didn't change the looks she received when she returned from the bathroom to an empty table and a bill much too large for her salary to cover. She knew he'd get it later, but that wasn't the point. He could've left a message or come and got her, something, _anything_ but disappearing while she wasn't looking. And it didn't erase the hours she spent worried about his safety, with nothing and nobody to reassure her he was all right. Came with the job description, she knew, but it never lessened the fear.

She felt him slide up behind her; a heat that she probably imagined warmed her back through her clothes and filled her stomach, nudging the butterflies into action. His gloved hand slid around her neck and drew her hair back to reveal it to him. She felt his kiss before his lips even touched her. Her eyes fell closed, her shoulders slackened and she felt her resolve crumbling by the second.

"I'll make it up to you," he promised, voice low and husky, sending shivers down her spine.

Her arm reached back, palm finding his cheek. "You always do," she admitted.

She could feel his grin against her ear.

"Open it," he told her, his other hand sliding to her hip, squeezing it lightly.

Her lips thinned. "I really don't need jewelry." She wasn't much of one for diamonds or jewels or anything, really. She wore the odd necklace or bracelet, but she never understood why apologies begot presents. He should know that by now.

His chin rested on her shoulder. "Just open it, Sidekick."

She reached for the blue box and undid the tiny ribbon before she popped open the top. Her lips quirked with a smile as she lifted out the small piece of paper with his messy writing scrawled atop. _IOU - One romantic anniversary dinner with the promise of mind-altering sex_ She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Mind-altering?"

"Only the best for my Watchtower."

She turned around in his arms and cupped his face wither hands. "You were on very thin ice, Arrow."

He pressed his forehead to hers, his arms sliding up her back and drawing her tight against him. "You love me too much to get rid of me now."

She smirked. "Don't push your luck just yet. Wait until the mind-altering sex is over."

He laughed, lowering his head to slant his lips across hers.

Apology accepted.


	13. When The Parents Are Away...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party of the year was going on downstairs but Leslie Queen had long ago let it continue on without her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #10 - Home

The party of the year was going on downstairs but Leslie Queen had long ago let it continue on without her. She was happy to supply the place but she wasn't much of a partier herself. She didn't know even half of the kids currently using her living room as their dance floor and her kitchen as the main drink outlet. She'd watched the kegs roll in, shook her head, and just let it happen. Her parents were currently enjoying a weekend away, leaving their trustworthy daughter home alone, with only her Aunty Lois to check in on her from time to time. And occasionally her Uncle Clark who was much more hesitant about her first weekend without her parents. Uncle Bart dropped by a few times, but she figured that was more for her mother's leftover than to check in on how she was doing. And after reassuring them all that Friday night that she was perfectly fine and completely capable, they left her alone. Which is why that Saturday, she hosted the biggest party to ever hit Star City. 

She was enjoying the comfort of her bedroom; a movie she'd seen a handful and a half times long over, a half-empty plastic cup of beer sat on her end table, a much lighter and softer CD than the ear-blasting rock n' roll booming downstairs crooned in the background, and her incredible boyfriend Kyle worked diligently at giving her a nice purple hickey on her neck. All clothes were fully in place, while a little rumpled, and she was leaned back on her bed, propped up on pillows, her hands buried in his shaggy hair as he proceeded to kiss and suckle the crook of her neck. Much better than watching a bunch of idiots get smashed and the many hormonal teens grinding away to the music downstairs.

If her parents had been there, her bedroom door would be open, her dad would stop in from time to time with lame excuses, all the while staring at Kyle as if he were some sort of bug to be squashed, and a plate of her mother's cookies would be half eaten in Kyle's lap. The only cookies better than her mom's were her grandma Martha's and Kyle was a sucker for anything baked, so she was often ignored in favor of her mother's desserts, which Leslie was entirely sure were only made to keep Kyle's hands to himself. It was a conspiracy.

As she fell deeper and deeper into the stimulating sensations of Kyle's mouth, she further ignored the pounding music downstairs, the crash of ornaments and furniture breaking. So long as they stayed out of any and all locked rooms, it was fine. She was the daughter of a billionaire and all things that really mattered were locked away from prying eyes. She'd learned early on that her parents were superheroes and as a kid, it hadn't surprised her. But then, she idolized her parents like no other and so them going out to save the world was a natural thing to her. Later, she understood that most parents were _nothing_ like Mr. and Mrs. Queen. And she appreciated that in them, really, even if it did mean that all of her friends were screened before ever coming over to the house, that her dad personally met, intimidated, and had a bad habit of interrogating everybody she ever knew, and that they spent a lot of time worrying about other people and their safety.

In the end, she could do nothing more than admire them. Sure, it might be nice to have the kind of mom who stayed at home, was never kidnapped or had her life threatened, and didn't die on a yearly basis to save others, only to return from the dead. Not exactly your average Brady bunch. And it might've been easier to have a dad that wasn't a billionaire or a superhero or a stoic figure that was always suspicious of every person that came into their lives. But overall, she had two incredible people raising her. People that would do and give anything for her and the world itself. Two people that would sacrifice themselves for each other, no matter what the cost. So sometimes she was jealous of her friends and their parents, but most of the time, she looked at hers and she knew that she was the lucky one. Because while they might not be conventional, they gave a whole new meaning to epic.

Their love for each other alone, while gag-worthy the majority of the time, really was quite sweet in that overly romantic way that she loved in movies but didn't quite enjoy seeing in her parents. Her dad could be strict and unwavering when it came to the public, but with his wife next to him, he was sweet and soft-hearted and he became the dad she remembered growing up, the one who would play with her for hours on end; house and tea party and teaching her how to shoot her bow and arrow. He was the man who kissed her owies and taught her how to throw a punch, who made her chocolate chip pancakes every Sunday since she was three and never missed one of her school plays or science fairs. And that side still came out, even as she grew older and out of the little things like crying over scraped knees. He hugged her tight when she had her first heartbreak at thirteen, rubbed her back and told her whoever he was, he'd regret it for the rest of his life. When she had the _worst_ Valentine's day ever, he gave her a dozen lilies, a box of chocolates, the cheesiest valentine ever made, and made her chocolate chip pancakes to cheer her up. And even though he didn't like the idea of her dating, he met and approved of Kyle, even let him come over to the house when her dad was out of town or away at work. He trusted her, loved her, would do _anything_ for her, and Leslie never doubted that.

Just like her dad, her mother was amazing. Sure, she wasn't like her Aunty Lois who would tell her all the juicy details about some big scandal in Metropolis like how she'd stumbled on the Mayor and his secret fling with the copy girl at The Daily Planet, but her mom had her own quirky charm that was never to be outdone. She never put work before her daughter; she was a top notch mom from day one. She fixed her hair to look acceptable when Leslie got a giant gob of gum caught in her it and even convinced anybody who asked that it was the new fashion. She loved each and every one of the poorly drawn pictures Leslie had made her, posting them all over the house, wherever free wall space could be found. She made her hot chocolate in the middle of the night when she knew she couldn't sleep. She cuddled with her and rubbed her back whenever she was sick, ignoring calls for big journalistic breaks to stay and make sure she drank all her orange juice and had chicken noodle soup to warm her up. She never made her wear the ugly Christmas sweaters her grandpa Gabe sent every year. And she was there through each and every boy turmoil Leslie had ever had, starting with Gordy Nard when she was just seven years old and liked the boy who had a fetish for sticking glue on every thing Leslie ever brought to school.

And while she could do without the constant affection they showered on each other, she wouldn't trade them for anything. Which is probably why she felt a pang of regret for betraying their trust as she had and allowing the party downstairs. It really was originally only going to be a small group of her friends coming over, enjoying the freedom that came without parents. But then word got out and more and more people were asking to come over and before she knew it, she had her own house party happening. She escaped from the chaos and her and Kyle enjoyed the separation of her room to themselves. She'd clean up tomorrow, probably with the help of her Aunt Lois who would very coolly be discreet about the whole thing, and probably not mention it to either of her parents until she was much older and couldn't be grounded.

She shivered as Kyle's teeth lightly nipped her but her reaction was quickly ignored when the phone rang shrilly in the background. She moved to grab it but Kyle's hand cupping her cheek stopped her. "Leave it," he said. And she figured why not, letting it ring and falling back into the lull of his lips. But whoever was calling was persistent and called right back after they got the voice mail.

With a sigh and a laugh, Kyle grabbed it and pushed the talk button, jokingly greeting, "Whoever this is it better be important because Leslie Queen is _very_ busy at the moment."

"Kyle?"

With wide eyes, Kyle looked at Leslie, mouth falling open in shock. "Mrs. Queen!" he squeaked out.

"Put my daughter on the phone, Kyle. Now."

He laughed awkwardly before handing the phone over quickly, shrugging apologetically as Leslie shook her head, glaring at him.

"M-Mom?!" She smiled uncomfortably. "Um, hi... Kyle was just fooling around, you know, joking."

"Your mom is scary," he admitted, shaking his head.

"I prefer to think _I'm_ scarier," a deep voice came from behind.

The two seventeen year old's turned abruptly.

"DAD!" Leslie exclaimed.

Staring back at her with a lifted brow and his arms crossed over his broad chest, Oliver asked, "Care to explain what 100+ teenagers are doing downstairs, Lili?"

"Um... Well... Funny thing really..." She smiled, brows knit.

"I'm waiting..." Her mother's voice could be heard saying.

"That your mom?" Oliver quirked a slight smile. "Tell her to ask you about how her private office looks right now."

"LESLIE MARTHA QUEEN!"

"I'm dead," Leslie murmured to herself sadly.

"Sooooo dead," her parents repeated agreeably.

Okay, so she really, _really_ loved her parents, and maybe she shouldn't have done the party thing _right_ after they agreed to leave her on her own for a weekend, but how was she supposed to know that they'd be home so early? "What, uh, what are you doing here, daddy?" She tried giving him the innocent look that usually worked; pouted lips, big eyes, lifted shoulder.

He stared back, unmoved. Your mom forgot her favorite perfume."

Kyle snorted. "You came all the way back for perfume?"

Oliver lifted a warning brow. "When you grow up, fall in love, and have a wife even half as incredible as my wife, you're going to learn quickly to appease those little things. Besides... I love that perfume on her."

"Aww, Ollie..." they could hear over the phone.

Leslie rolled her eyes. "Great... You're getting lovey-dovey and you're not even in the same room!"

"Would you rather us return to yelling at you?" Chloe asked, her tone clearly quite irritated.

"Um, no... Go about the lovey-doveyness."

"Kyle... Go home and take the party with you," Oliver ordered, motioning toward the door.

Standing up, Kyle saluted him before giving Leslie an apologetic smile and blowing her a dramatic kiss. He left the room, purposely giving Oliver a wide berth and could soon be heard shouting, "Parents are back, party's busted, everybody run!"

Tapping his foot, Oliver closed the door and turned back toward Leslie. "Explain."

"Well... It honestly started out small and just sort of... evolved on its own."

Her mother sighed. "Leslie... You know how important it is that our house stay as safe as possible."

"Mom, it was just a bunch of teenagers. I locked all important doors and nobody over eighteen showed up tonight!"

"If you locked all the important doors, why was your mother's study ransacked?"

"Uh... I don't know. But... I'm sure nothing is too disturbed and I will clean it up first thing tomorrow morning. I promise!"

"No... You'll clean it up as soon as we're done talking."

Leslie deflated, shoulders falling. "Dad, it's like midnight."

"Leslie, do you really think you should be arguing with me right now? Because you're on thin ice and I'm considering the option of grounding you for the rest of your life."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm going away to college in two years..."

"Since we're paying for that college life you so desperately want, you might consider following the rules as closely as possible," he suggested.

"Oh come on, it was only _one_ party."

"If that's your excuse, your Aunty Lois is going to be very disappointed in how little you've learned from her," her mother sighed. "Clean my office and whatever other mess has been made. You're grounded for the rest of the weekend, meaning no friends or visitors besides family or the League. We'll see you bright and early Monday morning and you better expect a very in-depth conversation about boundaries and respect. Now put your father on."

With a sigh, Leslie held the phone out to her dad who picked it up, sending her a disapproving frown before he lifted the phone to his ear. "Hey Sidekick... You left it on the bathroom counter, right?" He grinned. "If everything goes according to plan, I'll be there in an hour..." He glanced over at Leslie. "She's looking properly chastised for now... I'll see you soon. Love you too. Bye." He hung up before crossing his arms once more. "I'll be asking Clark to stay with you the rest of the weekend." As her mouth opened, his brows lifted and she stopped whatever protests were about to leave her. "Try not to throw any more raves while we're gone, Lili."

She nodded, frowning.

With one last disappointed look at her, he turned around and left the room.

Falling back on her bed, Leslie glared at the ceiling. Well that was one awesome weekend that just blew up in her face and she had a pretty bad feeling that any and all weekends leading up to graduation and college would be sorely lacking in anything akin to fun. Maybe she deserved it and maybe not, she was a little too annoyed at the moment to make any real conclusions. All she knew was that in the end, her parents would treat her fairly, they always did. And while the last day of her weekend would be spent with her Uncle Clark who most definitely would not bring her Aunt Lois, who would be far more fun and willing to hear all the dirt on the party, she knew she deserved it. She'd known the rules and she broke them... Still, she had her fun while it lasted and, really, she just knew both of her parents had probably done the same thing when they were young. Ever at their age now they had a million and one adventures. None of them included drunken teenagers, but they weren't living boring lives.

Being the daughter of Oliver and Chloe Queen was never lacking in excitement and while she knew that parties would be a giant restriction for her in future, she was sure she could find something to do with just the League serving as her only connection to the world for the next couple years. Her Uncle Bart was bound to have something up his sleeve... She just knew that if he got the chance and her parents weren't looking, he'd speed her halfway across the country to whatever big bash she wanted... So she wasn't complaining just yet. She still had a few good times ahead of her and she planned to take full advantage of them.


	14. Soon and Never To Be's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How do you really know it's forever?" Clark Kent knows the answer and it turns Chloe in the right direction, which doesn't appear to be the altar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #015 - Pressure

An anxiety stricken Chloe Sullivan (soon to be Olsen) stood staring wide-eyed into the mirror ahead of her, smoothing down the lace of her dress out of a nervous need to move than anything. She didn't even hear the door open, but she felt his presence at her back and as her eyes rose, they connected with the warm green eyes of her most treasured friend. Clark Kent stared back at her, mouth curved in that boyish smile of his. His large hand fell to her shoulder, squeezed reassuringly and waited for her to spill her guts. 

She wasn't sure where to start; how to explain what she was feeling. And she was terrified that all he'd say when she did manage to explain was that it was cold feet.

"How..." She squeaked before clearing her throat and trying again. "How do you really know it's forever?" She licked her lips, brows knit. "That this is the person you can happily spend the _rest_ of your life with?"

He stared at her a long moment, worried confusion crossing his forehead. With a hesitant smile he said, "Close your eyes..."

She let her eyes fall shut.

"And imagine the happiest day of your entire life..."

She swallowed tightly.

"Imagine everything you ever wanted..."

She nodded; the vision becoming clear in her mind now. Years ahead in the future; maybe a Pulitzer on the shelf, two or three beautiful blonde children that called her mom, and a strong sense of _right_ settled on her shoulders as she kept up her work in ISIS and as Watchtower. And now she turned, she saw the man that shared her life, who fathered her kids, who stood by her side through reporting and crime fighting, who grinned at her reassuringly whenever she fell and helped her back up, who could soothe away the darkness and fear with a comforting kiss to her cheek or temple... Her husband; her lover; her friend; her _forever_.

Clark's voice permeated her senses once more. "And if Jimmy's face is the one you see there, sharing in it with you... Then walk down that aisle." He took her shoulders into his large hands and she lifted her head, eyes opening now to stare up at him. "But if you can't imagine sharing that incredible moment with him..." His look, so searching, honest. "Then don't do this... To your or him... Or..."

She nodded, her throat too tight for her to answer verbally. He knew. He had to know. He was Clark; and while he had his big dumb alien moments and had a long history of obliviousness, he'd seen it this time... Seen the way she looked at _him_. And _him_ was not Jimmy, not who she saw in her vision of tomorrow and the future. The anxiety slipped away then, relief and acceptance filling her being. She lifted her shoulders, her chin, and smiled at her reflection.

"Clark? Could you...?"

"I know," he said, a smile of understanding curving his lips.

She stood there a moment longer before she slipped her engagement ring off her finger, placed it on the end table next to the mirror and rubbed her finger where it used to lay, where the imprint of how it bit into her skin still stared up at her. She stretched her fingers, felt the freedom of it all, and inhaled deeply. She knew she'd have to go out there and explain it to them all, to the guests, her family and friends, to Jimmy. But right now, her eyes filled with tears and the only reason they were sad was because she felt bad for being happy.

There was a soft knock and then the door had opened and _he_ was standing in front of her; the man she knew her future was meant to be with, the man she knew she'd never question walking down the aisle to. He stared at her with brown eyes she'd come to find more comfort in than she ever imagined.

"Take me away," was all she said.

And a genuine smile lifted his mouth before he had her hand in his and they were running out of the church and down the street, her lace gown dragging on the ground, never to be thought of or worn again after this. She felt bad for leaving Clark with the duty to explain away her sudden departure and she laughed loudly, with joy and freedom as she thought of Lois jumping excitedly from her chair, pumping a fist in the air and crying out, "Yes!" She never had approved and Chloe knew why. She couldn't wait to get out of this dress, to have _his_ fingers ridding her of the lace she felt restricted by. In the near future, she'd find Jimmy and she's apologize, but she knew that he'd understand. Because when the haze of all this was stripped away, it was so obvious they weren't meant to be.

Chloe Sullivan (never to be Olsen) was struck with nothing but happiness as she climbed into the car _he_ had driven to see her wed a man he had told her months ago didn't deserve her. The man who had held her in his arms tightly, stroked her hair from her face, told her that if she ever needed him he'd be there. Who had kissed her desperately, mouth slanting possessively over hers, after she told him she couldn't just walk away from Jimmy and what they had. Not even if _he_ finally saw her, finally loved her. After all this time playing Watchtower and Sidekick and healing his wounds or spending sleepless nights going over every little scrap of evidence to find yet another 33.1 warehouse or take down another evil in the world... He was her kindred soul and she his and finally, _finally_ she accepted that.

"Anywhere specific, Sidekick?" he asked from the driver's seat, lifting a brow at her as he turned the ignition.

She grinned, reaching over to take one of his hands. "The ends of Earth and back... Wherever we can reach... Let's search for justice and bring it back to share..." She laughed, overwhelmed with the feelings that thrummed inside of her. Freedom never felt so good; her future never looked so bright. She turned to him, a sigh escaping her lips. "Wherever you are."

He kissed the back of her hand. "We can do that."

He pulled away, turned out on the main road and headed toward his apartment. She had a set of clothes there that she could change into before they caught his jet out of Metropolis to wherever they desired; the world at their very fingertips.

"So what changed your mind?" he asked curiously.

She leaned back into the comfort of the passenger seat, playing with his fingers as she held his hand in her lap. "I saw the future and you were in it... No Jimmy Olsen in sight."

He glanced at her, nodding. "Good... On the bright side you stopped me from making a potentially embarrassing plea for you not to marry him in front of hundreds of guests."

She laughed lightly, her smile widening further. "You were going to do that?"

"Of course." He sighed. "I already knew my future and I know you were never meant to be Chloe Olsen."

"Really... And what was I _meant_ to be?"

He pulled up in front of the tower housing his penthouse and smirked at her. "Chloe Queen, of course."

She smiled. "Of course."

He lifted his hand from her lap, cupped her cheek, stroking back and forth and drew her closer, slanting his lips across hers. She sighed contently, lost in Oliver Queen. _This_ was right. This was the beginning to a future she knew would better fit her; one she knew she was always meant to live. She wrapped her hand around his neck, fingers threading in his hair. So maybe a few hearts were broken on the way, and the media might not look kindly on her leaving her fiancé at the altar and shacking up with their favorite playboy Oliver Queen, but in the end... she didn't care. She had accepted her fate and it was to live the life of a superhero and love the Green Arrow himself. Maybe it wasn't what she'd expected for herself when a younger her had looked to the future, but she had a better understanding of life and how it might turn out. She was, after all, a genius. But anybody could see, that she and Ollie... That was just an epic love story waiting to happen. And now it had.


	15. Right and Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through his daughter's innocent wisdom, Oliver is enlightened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #12 - Peace

Oliver laid out the blanket on the couch before punching his pillow and lying back, frowning. He browsed through what was on TV but nothing caught his attention so he turned it off and tossed the remote away, rubbing his face with his hands. Three days he'd been down here on this couch and it was more than a little uncomfortable. He tossed and turned half the night, went to work annoyed and frustrated and each morning it left him feeling lonely every time.

"Daddy?" a quiet voice called out.

He looked up suddenly. "Tash? What are you doing up?"

Walking toward him, her favorite pink giraffe under her arm, she crawled onto the couch next to him. "Couldn't sleep," she murmured, swinging her feet back and forth. She looked up at him from beneath her blonde bangs. "Daddy, how come you and mommy aren't sleeping together no more?"

He sighed. "Mommy and I just... had a disagreement and... as soon as she realizes I'm right, this will all blow over." He hadn't realized the kids even noticed; he was sure to go out to the couch long past their bedtime. But it seemed his daughter was just as observant as her mother.

She nodded. "Are you?"

His brow furrowed. "Am I what?"

"Right," she said, lifting her shoulders. "Are you right?"

"Yes, of course I'm-" He paused, lips pursing.

She stared at him, blinking innocently.

He looked down at her curiously. "Honey, do you think your dad is always right?"

She lifted a finger to her chin as if in thought. "Mostly..." she said slowly. "But mommy's right a lot, too. So I guess you're both right." She lifted her shoulders. "Cory told me he's always right and that I'm always wrong; is that true?"

Oliver shook his head. "Your brother likes to _think_ he's always right, sweetie..." He smiled slightly. "Kind of like your dad."

She stared at him with confusion.

"Come on, it's late, you should be sleeping." He picked her up into his arms and left the couch to carry her up to her bedroom.

"Are you and mommy gonna say you're sorry?" she wondered, resting her head on his shoulder. "I always have to say sorry to Cory when I was wrong..."

He nodded. "Yeah, I think we are." He laid her down on her bed and tucked her blanket in around her before he kissed her forehead.

"Giraffe too," she told him, lifting her stuffie.

With a slight laugh, he kissed the bright pink hair on top of the giraffe and then moved to the doorway.

"Night," she called out through a yawn.

"Goodnight," he replied, closing the door part-way before he made his way to his bedroom and opened the door quietly. He slipped inside and walked across to the bed.

Chloe was lying on her side of the bed, hand outstretched to his.

"Any room in there for me?" he asked, lifting a brow.

She rolled over quickly, letting him know she too hadn't been sleeping. She looked up at him and then frowned. "Sorry, not enough bed for you _and_ your ego."

He laughed, nodding. "Okay, you were right... I have a tendency of thinking I'm always right and... I'm not." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, Sidekick."

She stared up at him for a moment before finally tossing the blanket up invitingly. "I guess there might be enough room in here for one more."

He grinned, crawling in next to her. "Good... It was getting lonely down there without you."

She rolled her eyes but slid in close to him, resting her head against his chest. "Yeah, well, maybe the bed felt a little big without you around, too."

He smirked, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, how their legs intertwined naturally. "So we're making peace, right? Because I don't think I could handle another night on the couch..."

She laughed lightly. "Yes, we've made peace. And if you keep that ego in check and realize that you're not _always_ right, you won't _have_ to spend any more nights on the couch."

He nodded. "I think I can take my ego down a notch or two."

She smirked. "Or three... Maybe five, six, even ten-"

He kissed her to stop her teasing, hand burying in her hair as a simple gesture became much more. Three nights without her and he was very much in withdrawal. In fact, if anyone asked, he couldn't even remember what they were fighting about in the first place. And he had his daughter to thank for enlightening him, without her he'd be going another night without his wife and that was just not acceptable.


	16. Hectic, But Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their life was anything but easy... but it was theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #8 - Together

Finally, a moment of peace. It had taken two hours to clear the apartment of the Justice League and answer the never-ending questions Queen Industries kept calling him to answer. It was late, his gear was put away and it was time to relax. He fell back on the bed with a heavy sigh, his shoes and socks off, his shirt unbuttoned but only half-untucked. She rolled over, half-smiling as if she was amused and wrapped an arm around his waist before resting her head on the pillow more comfortably.

He hadn't bothered with turning on any lights; instead he'd simply gone to his side of the bed knowing exactly where she'd be, where she always laid nowadays. She'd helped him clean up after the League, it was mostly leftover dishes from Bart, really, and then admitted defeat as he told her it was fine for her to go to bed, he didn't know how long he'd be on the phone with the vice-president of his company. Sharing a brief kiss, she'd yawned as she stumbled off for bed tiredly and now, thankfully, he could join her.

Life was hectic; it was always moving and causing trouble, it was up and down and running him ragged 24/7. But when it finally slowed down and he could lie back, too tired to finish undressing himself, and just enjoy a spare moment with her next to him, he could forget about everything else. Her fingers drew circles small and large on his ribs, tracing muscles and scars and stroking his flesh familiarly.

He turned his head toward her; even that small movement was tiring. "You know... in three months this is going to be even _more_ exhausting."

He knew she was grinning despite the fact that he couldn't see her. "A little late to turn back now, Ollie."

He gathered up his energy and rolled over onto his side, pressing his forehead to hers, just barely able to make out her silhouette now that his eyes had adjusted. "I don't want to turn back, Sidekick. I'm just reminding you that life is going to do anything _but_ slow down for us."

She buried her hand in his hair, playing with the short blonde strands gently. "Since when do either of us ever _really_ slow down?" she wondered, her voice soft.

His fingers traced her arm from her small wrist to the curve of her elbow and up the back of her bicep, feeling the gooseflesh fan out and her form shiver against him in anticipation. He stroked her shoulder, his fingers dipping beneath the strap of her green camisole before gentling up the slope of her neck and tangling in her hair. His eyes were closed as he nuzzled her nose with his, felt the brush of her parted lips slide against his own, and her warm breath mixed with his in the limited space between them. "You're beautiful," he whispered.

He could feel her lips curve in a smile. "It's so dark in here I'm amazed you can see me."

"I can't," he admitted freely. "I know your every curve and expression so well there's no other word to describe you at any given moment but beautiful."

She sighed, light and content. "Some days I really think I hit the jackpot with you, Queen."

He laughed. "And other days?"

"I think it's all a dream..." she breathed honestly.

He laid her back on their bed and his mouth ghosted up her cheeks, over her temple, across her forehead and down the slope of her nose stopping once right to press a kiss to her eyelid and then left to kiss the other before his lips pressed against hers, firm and tender and deep. She arched up into him, a gasp escaping her throat and her fingers digging deep into his shoulders, holding him tight against her. When they parted, her head fell back to her pillow, her breathing low and quick while he continued to kiss her lower lip, nibbling softly. "Not a dream, Sidekick." He ran his thumb along her cheek soothingly. "You're here and I'm here and together we're going to save the world, run a billion-dollar company, and raise our son or daughter..." His hand fell, stroking her round stomach affectionately. "And as soon as you accept my proposal, I can add that we'll spend the rest of our lives together..."

She covered his hand against her stomach, their fingers twining. "As if you need to add plan and execute a wedding to that already too-hectic schedule of yours," she replied lightly.

He grinned. "For you... I could definitely fit it in."

She chuckled. "You're already running on fumes, Ollie."

"True." He nodded. "But I think knowing that you're a definite part of my future will relieve a lot of stress."

She snorted. "Are you _actually_ trying to say that by _not_ marrying you, I'm making your life _more_ stressful?"

He smirked. "Exactly."

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" She smiled widely.

He shrugged through a yawn.

She squeezed his hand. "I think it's time for you to get some sleep, Arrow."

He laid down once more, arm curving around her and drawing her up against him. "You know I won't give up, right?" he murmured sleepily. "I'm going to get you to marry me," he declared. "You're stubborn... but you love me."

She sighed, half in content and half to agree. It was a few minutes later when she finally replied, "I do..." She rolled onto her side and let her eyes close. "And I have no doubts that I will... _eventually_ marry you."

All she heard in response was Oliver's light snoring. He didn't need her reassurance though; he knew just as strongly, probably even more so than her, that they would indeed live out this hectic, dramatic, and all too perfect life together. Neither of them wanted it any other way.


	17. Poor Cover Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late night excursion gets interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : "Why aren't you wearing any pants?"

Chloe didn't know whether to laugh or cry as she crouched behind the counter in the kitchen, wearing very little.

"Hey... Uh, not the greatest time," Oliver said, staring out over the counter top, wearing only a dress shirt, half unbuttoned. His leg bumped hers and she forced herself not to look up and take in his current lack of clothing.

"Why aren't you wearing any _pants_?" Lois asked, standing fully-clothed, one hand holding the strap of her purse while the other was on her hip.

"Long story..." He nodded, brows furrowed. "Why don't I tell it to you some other day?" He smiled uncomfortably, still using the counter as a shield. "Maybe you can _call_ next time."

She snickered. "What? To make sure you're wearing _clothes_?"

Chloe placed a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

"Yes. Exactly..."

"Seriously? If I'd known you had a tendency for running around pantless for absolutely no reason, I have a feeling our relationship would've ended for other reasons..." Her eyes narrowed. "You're not peeping on the neighbors, are you?"

Oliver sighed, exasperated. "No, Lois. Can we talk another time? Because I was... busy."

"Yeah, I can see that."

A snort burst from Chloe and Oliver's eyes widened slightly before he coughed to cover it up. "Well, you should be going..." He waved to the elevator.

Lois' head tipped with suspicion. "Nice try. Who is she? Do I know her?"

"Who's who?" he asked, putting on an innocent face.

"Seriously?" She scoffed. "For a superhero with an identity to hide that was the lamest cover up ever!"

Sighing, Chloe slowly stood up from behind the counter, shrugging slightly, a crooked smile on her face. "Hey cuz... Funny seeing you here..."

Lois' eyes widened and her mouth broke out into a sudden smile. "Yes! Smallville _so_ owes me dinner for this! I told him you two were hooking up!"

Oliver and Chloe looked at each other, slightly confused.

Grinning, Lois let out a breath. "Well, I think we've all been sufficiently embarrassed so I think I'll just..." She pointed her thumb back at the elevator and started walking before looking over her shoulder to wink. "Nice work, Chlo!"

Flushing, Chloe shook her head, chuckling to herself. She sighed as the elevator left. "That didn't go so bad..."

Oliver nodded. "Glad it's over with. Now..." He turned, wrapping his arms around her. "Back to business, Sidekick..."


	18. Old Saint Nick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus..."

Candace Queen peeked around the corner of the doorway leading into the kitchen. Sitting in his usual spot was her dad, one hand wrapped around his mug of coffee while the other was holding the newspaper. Her mother was nowhere in sight, probably trying to get her little brother Brandon out of bed and into his snow pants because this morning was the first snow and keeping Brandon inside wasn't going to happen. She peered at her dad still, chewing on her lip. He looked so comfortable in the quiet and she didn't want to interrupt him with her news.

"Candace? What did I tell you about staring?" her dad's voice called out, startling her.

"That it's not nice," she replied, sighing.

"Did you want to tell me something?"

She nodded her head, still standing at the doorway.

Standing from his chair, Oliver crossed the living room and knelt in front of his daughter. "Is it really important?"

She nodded again.

"So important you have to tell it in secret?"

"Yup," she told him, eyes wide. "And you can't get mad neither."

"Really?" His eyes thinned slightly. "And why would I be mad?"

"You can't be!" she told him, shaking her head.

"Okay, okay... I'll try my best not to get mad, how's that?" He quirked a brow at her.

She sighed. "I guess..." Her shoulders slumped before she lifted her hands and put them on her dad's shoulder. "You 'member how last night, Santa Claus came and saw us...?" She stared at him wonderingly.

"Your mother told me." He half-smiled. "I'm sorry I missed it."

She looked quite put out by that revelation. "Yeah... You would've liked him. He was real nice and jolly and he had a big white beard and..." She was getting so excited remembering Santa she almost forgot what she meant to tell him. "But anyways... See, mom sent me and Brandon to bed early and I wanted to wait up for you so I could tell you _allll_ about it. But when I came downstairs I saw something..." Her eyes fell. "Remember you said you wouldn't get mad," she reminded, glancing at him.

Reaching out, he took her small hands in his. "It's okay, you can tell me anything."

She finally raised her eyes to look at him. "Last night... I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus."

Oliver nearly laughed. "Really?"

"Yeah but I don't think she really meant it. See I think she was just soooo happy that Santa came to see _us_ that she just wasn't thinking. Y'know? Cause I know she loves you way more than Santa." She nodded. "But he's real special, daddy, and I don't think she wanted to hurt you, she was just sooo excited!" She looked ready to cry as she looked up at him and Oliver drew her in for a hug.

"It's okay... Your mom told me. And you're right. She was just excited to meet Santa Claus..." He rubbed her back as she sniffled. "Don't worry. I know your mom loves me."

Candace hiccupped, nodding. "If it makes you feel better, I wrote Santa a letter. I was mad at him. He shouldn't have kissed mommy back like that." She shook her head. "That kind of kissing only happens between mommies and daddies, right?"

Oliver cleared his throat so he wouldn't laugh. "You're very right." Drawing back, he stroked her hair and rubbed her cheek. "You okay?"

She nodded.

"Did you wanna go out and play in the snow with your brother?"

"Do I have to play with _him_?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

He laughed. "Go get your snow pants on," he said, motioning for her to run over to the closet.

Loud footsteps coming down the stairs let him know that Brandon was dressed for snow and coming down to play as well. Following not far behind, was his wife. Sighing, she shook her head and helped Brandon open the front door so he could run outside. "Stay in the yard and don't play with yellow snow," she called after him. His laughter rang back. "Keep an eye on your brother, Candace, sweetie."

Candace looked up at her and smiled before looking over at her daddy and then hurrying outside.

"What was that?" Chloe wondered before closing the door.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Our daughter happened to see you kissing Santa last night and she was... very distraught."

Chloe's eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "But she was in bed..."

He shrugged. "She got up." Walking closer to her, he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Cheating on me with old Saint Nick..." He shook his head at her.

She rolled her eyes, looping her arms around his neck. "He had the wisdom of the ages, how could I resist?"

Oliver laughed, grinning at her.

She slid a hand beneath his chin and playfully ran her nails back and forth. "I kind of miss the white whiskers..."

"That right?" He leaned closer and slanted his lips across hers.

"Mmm... Clean shaven's good too," she murmured, cupping his cheek as she pressed her mouth to his once more. Parting their mouths, she panted, "Think you made it on Santa's good or bad list?" she wondered. "One of them means you get to see me in the Mrs. Claus outfit..."

He quirked a brow. "Can I have a hint?"

She smirked. "Red lace and a bustier."

"I was a very, _very_ bad boy," he murmured, kissing her mid-chuckle.

Interrupting their reverie was the slap of a snowball against the front door.

"No fair! I wasn't ready!" Candace shouted.

"I win! I win!" Brandon yelled back, excitedly.

"Do not!"

"I think Mrs. Claus is going to have to wait," Oliver said, frowning slightly.

"I'm on Brandon's team!" she exclaimed, hurrying toward the closet for her winter jacket.

"No fair!" he replied, grinning as he followed.

"You're just upset because Brandon has great aim."

"He got it from me," he boasted jokingly.

Rolling her eyes, she yanked her boots on and opened the front door. "Yeah well, Brandon's got Watchtower on his team, so he's sure to win now."

Zipping up his jacket, Oliver stepped outside and closed the door behind him. He couldn't really argue with her on that front, so he'd just have to be on his A game. "You're going down Queen," he called to her, walking over to join Candace."

She stuck her tongue out at him playfully and the game was on.


	19. Once Upon a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver tells their story.

  
**made by** : [ellashy](http://ellashy.livejournal.com/)

Once upon a time there was a billionaire… who also played superhero in green leather at night, but very few knew this and so it wasn't often brought up in polite conversation. In any case, there was a billionaire named Oliver Queen; a good man who had a less than defining past and worked hard, daily, to make himself into the kind of person his parents could have been proud of. See, at the tender age of five, Oliver had lost his parents, Robert and Laura, to a tragic plane crash; one that happened to be orchestrated by people the couple had once considered friends. And so Oliver grew up in a home void of the love and family he had once known and come his teenage years he was jaded and dark, taking his sad childhood out on others. During his early twenties, he had already taken such lengths to protect himself that he pushed away the first woman he'd ever truly loved. Tess "Mercy" Mercer. But upon a revelation and a life-altering understanding of himself and the world, Oliver Queen was able to right himself and take up a stance as a better man who looked toward the future and vowed that he would change it, that he would make it something worth being proud of.

Oliver had picked up his green leather and his bow and arrow and was just beginning his adventures as Green Arrow, justice seeker for all, when he found the second love of his life. But all was not quite so easy to come together. Lois Lane, a brash, beautiful and brilliant woman, had opened him up once more to the possibilities of love, commitment and companionship but his loyalties to saving the world made him turn a blind eye to that future. And so, broken-hearted, they parted ways and he was once again relying solely on his duo-identity to help him through his rocky life.

It came as a surprise the day he found himself entangled in a heated kiss with none other than his favorite and most trusted sidekick, Watchtower. More so shocking was that she was, in fact, his ex-girlfriend Lois' dearest younger cousin. Having regretted his decision to break up with Lois for some time, too long in fact, he was wary to start something between himself and good friend, Chloe, and so they agreed on something less permanent. A friends-with-benefits package that would help them through stressful times, provide the comfort they both needed, but allow them the freedom they so desired—

_"What's that, daddy?" little Anna Queen, four years old and ever-curious, asked._

_Oliver frowned. "Uh, it's where two people kiss and hold hands a lot so they don't feel lonely… But they're not girlfriend and boyfriend, honey, just really,_ really _good friends…"_

_Chloe narrowed her eyes at him, bemused. "Nice explanation, Ollie."_

_He shrugged innocently before returning to his tale…_

And so Chloe and Oliver began their… _very close_ friendship, without telling any of their friends or family in case judgment was first on the menu. However, the more time they spent, pretending it was only friendship, the closer the two became. As Chloe had been there in the past to pick Oliver up off the ground and dust him off after his many missteps and stumbles, he too had been there to keep her from becoming the recluse she was so set on being—

_Chloe snorted, rolling her eyes._

_"Are you going to let me tell the story?" Ollie asked, frowning at her._

_She held up an innocent hand with mocking wide eyes of surrender. "Oh, please, do continue…"_

And over days and weeks of laughter and, uh… close friendship, Chloe and Oliver began to fall in love. Having never planned to and both agreeing that nothing more would come from their agreement, neither would tell the other of this change. So, playing oblivious, they acted like everything was as it was supposed to be. But, being the ever charming and cunning man he was, Oliver decided that their agreement simply couldn't continue as it had. It was time he show Chloe he loved her and it was time she loved him back. And so he made a plan; one that would show her just how good they could be together, how in-love they really were, and—

 _"That's not how I remember it," Chloe interrupted. "In fact, I think_ I _figured it out long before you did…"_

 _Oliver rolled his eyes. "But did you_ do _anything?"_

_Pursing her lips, she cocked a brow. "Trust me, Big Green, you weren't solo on this mission of yours!"_

_Tucking her blonde hair behind her ear, he smirked. "Does it matter? We both won in the end!"_

_Slowly, Chloe's lips curved into a grin and she leaned forward to meet Oliver's mouth in a kiss._

_However, before they could even start, Anna's head appeared between them, allowing their kisses to hit her cheeks. "I wanna know how it ends!" she exclaimed impatiently._

_Oliver chuckled under his breath, sighing in exaggerated disappointment. "All right…_ "

With elaborate plans for flowers and showers of gifts, everything from the best of the best in imported coffees to the highest of technological advances in laptops, and even interviewing a crooning clown that would follow her around and sing ballads, Oliver set out to woo his sidekick and partner into seeing the truth.

But… _He sighed for effect_. Nothing was every easy in Oliver Queen's life and so whatever he planned seemed to go horribly, _horribly_ wrong. The coffee was mixed up with decaf, the laptop blew up while still in its original packaging, and the clown wasn't exactly taking his medications… And so, disappointed and feeling as if the world was giving him a sign, Oliver went home, loosening his tie and letting his shoulders slump in defeat. But as he stepped into his apartment, he came face-to-face with the one woman he'd been trying so very hard to impress.

Holding a bottle of wine and two glasses, she grinned at him mischievously, as was her forte. "Celebration, Mr. Queen?"

Despite his bad day, a smile tugged at his lips. "And what are we celebrating, Miss. Sullivan? I must not have received the memo."

Walking toward him, her green heels clicking, she tipped her head back to meet his gaze. "The beginning…"

Brows furrowed, he waited for further explanation.

"Funny thing… Either you forgot or you were so involved in your scheme that you overlooked a rather vital piece of information…" she trailed off, knowingly.

Shrugging his coat off, he undid his cuff links and rolled his shirt sleeves up his arms before taking the bottle of wine and popping the cork. "And that was?"

She smirked. "That I monitor your bank accounts; every transaction, even those that are cancelled due to a malfunction on the company's part."

With a pause, he shook his head, smiling slowly. "So even if you didn't get my gifts, you knew they were coming," he said, understanding.

Nodding, she grinned. "Looked like you were going out of your way to get a certain someone's attention, Ollie."

"A very certain someone," he agreed, lowly. Taking their glasses, he poured them each one and then placed the bottle on the table. With his free arm now wrapped around her waist, he tugged her close. "And have I got it, Professor?"

Taking a long sip of her wine, eyes never straying from his, she licked her lips and dropped her glass behind her. "It was never anywhere else."

_Oliver paused in his story, grinning widely to himself in happy memory._

_"Then what happened?" Anna asked innocently._

_Chloe snorted. "Yes, Oliver, then what happened?"_

_"Uh…" Oliver stared down at his curious four year old and cleared his throat. Wrinkling his nose for effect, he hugged her tight and brought his face close to hers. "They hugged and kissed and were all sloppy and lovey-dovey!" he exclaimed, nuzzling her small nose with his own._

_Giggling, Anna shook her head. "Eeew!" she cried._

_"Exactly!" Tickling her sides, he kissed her blonde hair affectionately._

_"So he got his happy ever after?" she wondered, looking up at him hopefully._

_Smiling gently, Oliver looked from her to his wife, who was staring up at him with the same green eyes as their beloved daughter. "Yeah… Oliver and Chloe lived happily ever after…"_

_Chloe looked down at their little girl and nodded. "They got married and had a beautiful little girl, their pride and joy!"_

_Anna grinned excitably and then reached over to touch her mom's rounded stomach. "And a little boy too, right? They had Baby Connor and their family was perfect!"_

_"Right," Oliver agreed, wrapping his arms around his family. "Absolutely perfect."_

And they all lived happily ever after.


	20. The Right Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of meeting the JSA, Oliver’s got a decision to make.

When he goes to the tower, he’s not expecting to see J’onn. All he knows is that Hawkman was right… He needs to stop hiding. The only person he really stays in contact with is Chloe; aside from an email here or there to the others, or a phone call when the world seems close to apocalypse. She’s the only one he keeps close to and even that’s stretching it. She’s hurting and he knows that; he lets her go in that downward spiral that’s all too familiar. Because admitting he cares means telling her things he’s kept close to his chest. These feelings aren’t new; they’d been under the surface for longer than what would be respectable given her dead ex-husband.

So maybe he’d harbored a bit of a crush on his Sidekick; she was the tenacious type that never walked away from a hard situation. And when everybody else didn’t know what to do, she’d swooped in and dragged him out of the gutter. They both had black marks on their history and instead of letting themselves get close to others they held them at a distance. But he knew the Chloe that rarely anybody else did, and she knew the Oliver he hid. So when the fight was over and the JSA went their way, he was left with a decision.

Keep hiding and go on as things were or drop the mask and make a move.

Before he knew it, he was at the Watchtower and he was hoping Chloe might want to take that step with him.

Finding J’onn was both a bonus and a kink in the plans. It wouldn’t be easy getting Chloe out of her tower and away from her computer, but he was surprised to find that she’d agreed to come out with them for dinner. So this was his chance to do it right. After all, it was just him and her and a band of heroes spread all over the world that had the training but no direction. He’d need her help to get thing back on track, and in the process maybe make a little _connection_ with a certain Sidekick that held a special place in his heart.  



	21. No More Hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver takes Hawkman’s words to heart and it’s time he stops hiding just how much he cares. 
> 
> [sequel to: The Right Direction]

Throughout dinner, they laughed and the weight of the world didn’t feel quite so heavy any longer. Food and wine were in success and friendship bloomed strong between the three of them. But as the hour grew late, it was time for them to part ways. They waved goodbye by to J’onn before he disappeared from sight, no use for a taxi when one had the ability to fly at will. Walking down the empty sidewalk next to him, Chloe was still smiling, her hands tucked in the pockets of her jeans.

“So tonight was fun,” he said, glancing at her.

Lifting her chin, she caught his eyes. “Yeah…” Her brow furrowed. “Been awhile since I’ve done that.”

He cocked a brow. “Had fun or gone out to dinner with a couple hero acquaintances?”

She chuckled. “Both, really.”

“So what made you say yes now?” he wondered.

She frowned, looking up at him wonderingly.

With a sigh, he widened his eyes for added seriousness. “I’m nobody to point fingers, but I can’t be the only the one who’s noticed your attachment to the tower of late…”

Licking her lips, she looked away. “I’m hearing that a lot lately.”

“We’re worried.”

“You were right before,” she muttered, scowling. “You’re nobody to point fingers.”

She picked up her pace, putting distance between them, but his long legs crossed it easily. “Chloe…” Reaching for her, he touched her shoulder, asking her to slow down, to stop avoiding the obvious. “I was talking to Hawkman earlier…”

“In between making fun of each other?”

He grinned. “Yes…” Sobering, he added, “For a guy who’s been running from his demons longer than I’ve been alive, he had some pretty good insight to me.”

“And that was?”

“That I’m hiding…,” he admitted simply. “From everybody I care about… Because I don’t _want_ them to know that I care.”

Brows knit, she shook her head. “Why?”

“Why do you spend all your time looking after us rather than actually _being_ with us? Because it’s easier not to care than it is to admit a connection to anyone…” Shaking his head, he frowned. “Hawkman had a wife; a woman that he loved _desperately_. Somebody that made him look at life as just another moment, one where he didn’t fear the end because it meant he’d _be_ with her again…”

Quiet, she simply waited for him to continue.

“I never had that… Not with Tess _or_ Lois.” He laughed cynically. “When I first got here, I was so certain that true love just didn’t exist. And I found it with Lois, but it wasn’t… _right_ … So I screwed up and she moved on and when I was ready, I was too late.”

Chloe bit her lip to keep from arguing.

“The thing is… what I had with her… I know that it’s over and I know that it was _meant_ to end… But that just means that I was wrong in the beginning.” He grinned. “If a guy like Hawkman can find a soul mate, then what the hell am I doing?”

“Saving yourself a lifetime of heartbreak?” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Stopping, he pointed at her. “See… _that_ is why you and I are in the hider’s category…”

Chloe was unfazed. “So what if I am? My romantic history speaks rather loudly for itself…”

“But you were hiding then too, weren’t you?” He shook his head before she could interrupt. “Jimmy didn’t know all of you, even in the end… And you couldn’t tell him everything; maybe _some_ things, but not all of it… And Davis… You were with him because you were trying to save both him _and_ Clark, but he _still_ didn’t know you… Not the woman who plays mother hen to a group of heroes or the you that was infected with meteor rocks and terrified that she’d end up in Belle Reeve… He didn’t know about your mom or your past with Lex or any of the stuff that you keep close to you… Because that wasn’t meant for him. That was the real you, the you that hides behind this façade of normality for everybody else. And even Clark… your _best_ friend… If he’d known you, he wouldn’t have left you and he wouldn’t still think that you and he were on the same page… You’re the ‘justice at any cost’ type of person, Chloe, and he’s the ‘always another way’ guy…” Licking his lips, he sighed. “So if the real you was involved, if she came out of the tower and she was free and honest… maybe _she_ could have a chance at all of it… at that elusive happily ever after.”

Mouth wobbling, she didn’t know whether to glare at him or turn her eyes away as they burned with conviction. “So that’s it, huh?” she asked, her voice a raspy whisper of emotion. “I bare soul and lay down arms and love comes knocking?” she scoffed.

“Look… I can’t tell you what to do or who to be… But I _can_ tell you what I know… The you that I’ve known all this time, she has a lot more to offer than the you everybody else knows… You’re jaded and scared and you’ve lost a lot of hope for humanity… But still, you stick by a team of rough heroes that have a lot of work ahead of them if they ever want to be _half_ the family the JSA were… You’re smart and beautiful but you’re absolutely sure that any guy you like is going to look you over for the next Lois Lane or Lana Lang or whoever… So you build your walls and you use your snark as a weapon. But I like that… I like that you keep me on my toes, even when you’re knocking my feet out from beneath me and that you never hold back when you have something to say. You treat me like an equal because you _are_ my equal and you won’t have it any other way…” He smiled warmly. “So you can hide if you want to, but I won’t any more… and if you wanna join me up here in this dark world where you can get hurt, emotionally and physically, then my hand’s out, Sidekick… Any time your willing, we can walk this path together…”

And he started moving, walking down that dark sidewalk once more, half-smiling as the jackassery of his past was just that. It was time he opened up and let the people that mattered know the truth of him; that he really did care. And he hoped, more than the rest, that the woman behind him would get that first.

It was seconds, maybe minutes, but then he felt it. Her hand tucked in his, holding on and letting go. And he smiled; didn’t say a word. This would be the beginning – no more hiding.


	22. Family Dinners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving at the Watch Tower.
> 
> [sequel to: No More Hiding]

The sun hit the colorful glass that made up the tower and sent rainbows of brilliant dancing shadows all over. Crowded around a long table, passing dishes to and fro and in so many conversations at once it was hard to keep up, were the members of Chloe's rough-around-the-edges band of heroes. As cranberry sauce was passed from Victor to Dinah, right in front of Bart, the young man reached out with a fork and plucked a hefty bite out of the bowl before shoveling it into his mouth. He grinned as Victor rolled his eyes and Dinah snatched it away, purposely spooning a bit onto her plate that was nowhere near the gravy imprint of Bart's fork. On the other side, Clark was trying to fend Lois away from the last roll that he'd just barely gotten for himself. And AC was telling Mia all about his latest fight with the fishing boat he'd been keeping an eye on.

She wondered if the JSA were having their own Thanksgiving celebration, the kind Courtney had told her about. With turkey and trimmings, friendship and family, and that overwhelming warmth of comfort that filled every open crevice. Vic's girlfriend Tracy was trying to keep up a conversation with Bart while simultaneously unable to stop watching Clark and Lois wrestle for the crusty bun that Bart too was eyeing. Dinah interrupted AC's triumphant story over the fishing boat to let Mia in on the fact that he'd been caught in a net and she'd had to bail him out.

A hand on the small of her back made Chloe turn her gaze from her family and up to the leader of them all.

"Not a bad turn out," he said, smiling.

She shrugged. "You say food and Bart comes running."

"They're not here for the turkey, Sidekick…" Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he drew her close. "Family comes for the company, not the entree."

Encircling his waist with her arms, she tucked her head beneath his chin. "Next year, we'll need a bigger table…"

With a chuckle, Oliver nodded, his hand sliding down her side to rest against her extended stomach. "And a high chair."

"If I'm reading Lois right… possibly two."

His brows rose. "I'm guessing Clark _doesn't_ know… or he'd have handed over the bun by now."

Laughing, she nodded. "Doesn't matter… Bart'll have scarfed it down in 3… 2…"

Suddenly, Bart was out of his chair, across the room, hunched over and stuffing the whole bun in his mouth before pumping his arms into the air triumphantly.

Oliver sighed. "Impulse!"

Innocently, his eyes widened as he turned to his boss. "Just tryin' to end the fighting!"

Shaking her head, Chloe stepped out of Oliver's embrace. "Come on, Big Green. If we squeeze in between Mia and Dinah, we might actually get a little dinner out of this mess."

He drew out her chair for her before taking a seat next to her, their legs cramped together, feet accidentally bumping everybody else's.

It wasn't the lack of wealth in space that mattered or even the dry turkey and lumpy potatoes… It was that they were surrounded by friends and family, teammates and significant others. Since meeting the JSA, only good things had come from the bad. The team learned to work together better, keeping in contact rather than calling each other every once in awhile. Chloe got out of the tower and Oliver stopped hiding behind a careless attitude. And by the time Thanksgiving came calling, he had the kind of love Hawkman had once told him off. That connection that stretched beyond life or death, bonding him to that one special person. He and Chloe weren't perfect but they loved and understood each other in ways nobody else could. And the team was still learning, but they were well on their way to being as great as they could be. With time and effort, they could be the next JSA… or more appropriately the Justice _League_. He liked the ring of that.

[ **End**.]


	23. Undefeated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Defeat was not something Tess would admit to and rarely was she considered a victim to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoilers: 9x19

Defeat was not something Tess would admit to and rarely was she considered a victim to it. But today she had to admit defeat; she had to accept the knowledge that really and truly, her former relationship with Oliver Queen was done. To be clear, they had been apart for years, and while in the past few years they had shared a few flings, a  _relationship_ it was not. She hadn't and wouldn't let herself be hurt by him again. But there was always a connection between them; even when she  _hated_ him, she knew that. If worse came to worst, he would always have her back. Asshole he may have been, but loyal he was more so. And so the day that she went AWOL on Checkmate, while she tried and even rather  _begged_ him to forgive her, to  _help_ her, some part of her knew it was the beginning of the end.

But today…  _tonight_ was the night she knew for certain.

Just a few hours earlier, all had been so clear.

Tess stared at the floor, eyes wide with the shock of oncoming death. "I just wanted to save the world…"

Chloe snickered under her breath. "That's funny… Last time I checked you were just trying to get rid of everyone in it."

She frowned, pursed her lips, let her head fall, acceptance, and sighed. "Paint my ideals however you want but you and yours," She turned to stare at Chloe with purpose, "don't trust people any more than I do."

Unamused, even angry at the accusation, Chloe turned her glare in Tess' direction.

"This entire building was programmed to prevent anyone from getting close to you," she deduced.

Slowly, anger drained to subtle realization and Chloe turned her eyes away to survey her current surroundings, her brows falling heavy over her eyes. "Yeah, I guess I lost my faith in people a long time ago, too…" she murmured, honestly.

Staring at the floor once more, Tess tried to keep her voice from sounding bitter, "It's why you won't let Oliver get close to you."

Eyes filled with the sting of tears, Chloe swallowed tightly, looking up to avoid letting her emotion show. "And why I can't blame him when he eventually leaves."

Tess smiled to herself, though she wouldn't call it happiness or even triumph. This was acceptance, defeat, and maybe a little bit of closure. "He's not gonna leave you," she admitted, though she could honestly feel her chest ache at the finality and truth behind her words. "With you he has a purpose." She turned to look at the petite but fierce blonde on her left before turning away once more when offering often unsaid honesty, "I wish I could've given him that." She paused, wanting to grit her teeth and fight back her about-to-die confession. "And it kills me…" She met Chloe's gaze at it turned toward her. "'Cause you have everything right in front of you," Her voice fell with pained emotion, "and you can't even see it."

Realization was clear in Chloe's glittering eyes, in the purse of her lips to keep them from trembling.

But then share-time was over and it was back to worrying over their impending end. Wasn't it just poetic that they soon found their way free? That she had shared her innermost pain and heartbreak with her " _frenemy"_ only to get out and live to know that by some unfortunate turn of events, she'd rather helped her ex move on with the woman he quite obviously was destined to love, to grow with in ways he hadn't been able to when he and Tess had been together.

Snickering, she held her glass of wine to her temple, let the endless breeze of her air conditioner cool her skin until it was chilled; better than stifling heat and the hot, sticky knowing of death at her heels, she supposed.

Tonight, Tess had laid down her heart and let it splay open, all the black and still aching remnants there for Chloe to see. She only hoped that Oliver's newly enlightened girlfriend would focus more on her and her billionaire boyfriend than on Tess' personal honesty. The truth was, she thought she might always love Oliver, and hate him just as strongly. But he had been a friend once, an ally, and sometimes she still considered him so, whether he thought the same of her or not. While a lot of her wanted to hate Chloe just as strongly, she couldn't. In fact, some part even admired her; though her obvious avoidance issues were annoying. She supposed, if she were going to leave Oliver in capable hands, Chloe Sullivan would just have to do. So long as she smartened up and saw what was right in front of her; because if she didn't, maybe Tess would have to push her bitter heart aside and get back in the game.

 _Hmm_ , she mused with a curl of her lips, perhaps  _defeated_ wasn't what she was at all.


	24. Frenemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tess Mercer just had a very unfortunate realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Spoilers** : 9x19 - Sacrifice  
>  **Timeline** : A few months _after_ Sacrifice.

Tess Mercer just had a very unfortunate realization.

Her enemy was her _best friend_. And, of course, it had come in the guise of her ex-boyfriend.

"What are you doing here?" Tess asked, brows quirked in both suspicion and undeniable curiosity.

Pushing things to and fro with idle fingers, Oliver Queen sat behind her desk, waiting boredly for her return. He looked up at her voice suddenly intruding on his musings, half-smiling with his usual cocky charm. "I can't stop by to see an ex-girlfriend just for the hell of it?"

She snorted, curled her lip. "Given who your _current_ girlfriend is, I don't think she'd appreciate the pow-wow."

He smirked. "I dunno about that… Now that you two seem so _chummy_."

Eyes wide, Tess almost reared her head back in surprise. "Chummy? Not the word I'd use."

Irritatingly amused, he leaned back in her chair, resting his threaded fingers across his stomach and stacking his feet on top of her desk. "From where I'm sitting, you two are riding the train toward actual, dare I say it, _friendship…_ " Thinning his eyes and cocking his head to one side, he asked in feigned confusion, "When was the last time you _had_ a friend, Tess? One that wasn't using you to take over the world and destroy humanity, I mean."

Glaring at him witheringly, Tess undid her jacket to toss it over a chair, dropping her purse in its seat before she walked toward the fridge. She needed a drink; a _stiff_ one.

"Did you only come over here to remind me how little you approve of my choice in allies?" she called back, searching for a glass and something to take the edge off in her kitchen.

"If I wanted to do that, I didn't have to waste my night here… I could've just sent an e-mail, a text, had a sky-writer scrawl something out for you."

Pursing her lips, she looked back at him as he sat so relaxed his eyes had fallen closed. "You know, you and Chloe are on rather thin ice already, what with her obviously avoiding the fact that you're _in love_ with her and all… You really think you should be spending time here? It's not going to look too good." Downing her decanter of bourbon, she cocked a brow, waiting for his reply.

He didn't even flinch or frown in her direction; instead, he smiled. "She's not easily threatened."

"And I'm harmless, right?" she muttered, curling her lip.

He laughed shortly. "I wouldn't call you harmless, Tess… _ever_. But in this instance, I also wouldn't say you were a threat."

The truth of that statement still stung.

"And Oliver Queen grows a sense of honor toward woman," she sneered, filling her glass once more. "I'll alert the media tomorrow…" Raising her glass in salute to him, she added, "They'll never believe me."

Opening his eyes now, he looked over at her with subtle sadness. "I've apologized for the past, Tess."

"And that's supposed to make it all better, right?"

He shrugged, eyes falling in shame. "I was hoping it might… At least a little."

She sighed. "What are you doing here, Oliver?" Leaving her empty glass and her bottle of bourbon behind, she crossed the room to stand in front of her desk, staring at him darkly. "Last I checked, the woman of your dreams was a blonde superhero out to save the world even though she held little hope for it."

His lips curled at the corners. "Reminds me of someone."

Her chest warmed a little at that. "We have very different tactics," she reminded.

And his face clouded once more. "You know… Now that you've befriended my team's main player, you _could_ rethink just where those allegiances of yours really stand."

Brows furrowed, Tess frowned. "What is it with you and thinking I have even the slightest bit of interest in becoming friends with your new lover?"

He stared at her, knowing deep in his dark brown eyes. "Because I know her… and I know you…"

"And that means we're meant for life-long best friend bracelets?" She snorted, unconvinced. "Turn your radar elsewhere, Queen. You've got your signals mixed on this one."

He grinned, shaking his head. "Trust me, Tess…" He rose from her chair. "Sooner than you think, you're going to realize that the person you turn to most, the person you _trust_ in this world, is the one person you never thought you would." Tucking his hands in his pockets, he gave her a boyish smile. "And if you're wondering… I wouldn't stand in the way of true friendship."

She watched with her mouth parted in astonishment as he left her apartment without another word and she was left to ponder the utterly ridiculous conversation she'd just had with him.

Shaking her head, she snorted. _Her_ friends with _Chloe Sullivan_? She wanted to laugh at the very absurdity. But truth be told, some of what he said rang true. Just a few months ago, she'd let Chloe literally _kill_ her and even trusted that she would revive her. Or, okay, for a moment she really _hadn't_ trusted she would, but she still let her do it. And just how trustworthy was a woman who would willingly revive someone she must _hate_? Frowning, she sat down on her couch, suddenly wanting another drink of bourbon. Over the last year, she'd allied herself with aliens, learned the secrets of her ex and his group of superheroes, fought for and then went AWOL against Checkmate, and lastly… confided in someone she never meant to. So maybe they weren't best friends, frenemies was a more fitting term, but when it came down to it… Tess Mercer could actually see herself being true friends with Chloe Sullivan.

Sighing, her head fell back with acceptance. Oliver was never going to let her live this down.


	25. Who She Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She can't figure out why he still wants her... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Challenge** : Shuffle your MP3/iPod and write what fits  
>  **Song** : #10 – Who I Am//Nick Jonas  
> 

Chloe Sullivan has always had secrets, so when she realizes one day that she and Oliver have none of those, that they have shared it all, she's startled. All her life she's wanted one thing… She wanted someone to love her for who she was. The weird, the bizarre, the unavoidable talent she had for attracting danger. Wasn't it just fate that she should fall for a hero?

But she hasn't gotten this far by accepting things as they are; she was built for suspicion and finding the truth and never taking things at face value. So when Oliver offers a future, she doesn't take his hand right away. She wants to know how, why, and whether he realizes all he's getting in this deal.

He grins at her. "You think I don't know you? All of you?"

She chews her lip. The problem is she _does_ , and she can't figure out why he still wants her.

He tucks her hair behind her ear, wraps his rough palm behind her neck and draws her closer. "I love you for who you are… Every part, good or bad."

She swallows, staring up into those dark brown eyes that have never lied to her. And damn it, she wanted him, she wanted to believe in him and them and all that he offered. Was that so bad?

No. Which is why she gave in, let herself believe, and trusted in him. And for once in her long list of bad decisions relationship-wise, she got it right.


	26. Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And somehow, despite her pushing and her avoidance, they continue to collide...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Challenge** : Shuffle your MP3/iPod and write what fits  
>  **Song** : #09 – Collide//Howie Day  
> 

The dawn is breaking, a light shining through. She's still asleep, a quiet grumble letting him know she was avoiding waking up. He's so tangled up in her, he'd be happy to stay there a lifetime. But as soon as her eyes open, he knows that will change. He's open and she's closed; he's in love and she's pretending it's not there, that she doesn't know it.

He's willing to wait; he knows that eventually she won't be able to avoid it anymore. So he sticks with it, holds her when she's unwilling to admit she needs it, picks her up when she won't say she fell, kisses her just to feel her lips in moments of unseen tender appreciation. And somehow, despite her pushing and her avoidance, they continue to collide; their worlds, their bodies, their very hearts.

"Even the best fall down sometimes," he tells her and she frowns, wants to deny it, doubts him. But then… she smiles and maybe she sees it too, maybe she's figured it out. Even if she hasn't, she's close behind. So he takes her hand, and he kisses her forehead, watches as her eyes open and her breath inhales sharply and there it is, dawning. Not the sun, but the love he knew would eventually find her.


	27. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He honestly wondered what the hell she saw in him, why she even stuck around...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Challenge** : Shuffle your MP3/iPod and write what fits  
>  **Song** : #08 – I'll Wait For You//Joe Nichols  
> 

There were times in his life where he honestly wondered what the hell she saw in him, why she even stuck around. Here he was on a jet halfway around the world, apologizing yet again. "I won't be back until tomorrow."

She sighs. "It's Christmas."

His eyes fall closed and he nods. "I know… I'm sorry, Chloe, I—"

"It's okay," she interrupts and that same note of understanding she was so known for came through.

"It's not," he argues, clenching his jaw.

"Keep telling yourself that," she replied nonchalantly. "I expect to see you bright and early tomorrow, wearing a bow and nothing else."

He chuckled, eyes a little damp, and shakes his head. "What'd I ever do to deserve you?"

Her soft laughter is warming. "Trust me, tomorrow will remind us both of your good use."

His lips curl. "I'm serious."

There's a pause and then, "I'll always wait for you, Ollie."

And for the first time in their relationship of apologies and making up, he realizes the truth of it. She would. No matter the circumstance. He couldn't love her more for that.


	28. Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They shouldn't be here, doing this... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Challenge** : Shuffle your MP3/iPod and write what fits  
>  **Song** : #07 – Faster Kill Pussycat//Brittany Murphy  
> 

They shouldn't be here, doing this, but it didn't stop his hands from roaming her body, from lowering the zipper on her dress. He had her pinned to the wall, his mouth drinking up the crook of her neck and his teeth teasing her flesh with little restraint. Her hips rocked, rubbing against his hard erection; faster, faster, then slower just to tease him.

"Chloe," he groaned, his eyes falling closed, some small inkling of decency calling his name.

Her nails dragged along his shoulders and he was done for. "Ollie," she replied with just as much passion as he.

It was the high heels that did him in, he decided. They lengthened her already beautiful legs, made his eyes glue to her in every manner possible. Following those tiny ankles up smooth calves to soft thighs hidden beneath a wispy green dress. He forgot his champagne, walked away from his conversation and had her in a hallway before he could consider the ramifications.

Heaven knows, he tried to let her go. But he couldn't help himself, he lost control.

She wasn't arguing, wasn't doing any more than gasping his name, opening herself up for him to take, to have, to enjoy in every way he could. He took the bait, he supposed. She always knew how to get his attention, how to turn him on. They'd parted ways as friends, said it would be better to stop before it got too deep, but then she was there, always there, and she never failed to draw him back in.

He grabbed her thigh, hitched it high on his hip and ground against her, knowing without having to touch her that she was already wet for him, she always was. He could feel the heel of her shoes digging into his back and could care less; in fifteen minutes it'd be all she was wearing while he took what was his, what would _always_ be his.

Her.


	29. Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, tonight was going to be a really good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Challenge** : Shuffle your MP3/iPod and write what fits  
>  **Song** : #06 – I Got a Feeling//Black Eyed Peas  
> 

He smiled to himself, did up the cufflinks at his wrists and felt an unwavering breath of excitement fill him

Centering the green silk tie he wore, he gave a nod and stepped back, patting his chest pocket only once before he left.

He had a feeling tonight was going to be a good night.

She stood at the floor length mirror, looking herself up and down, chewing her lip as she considered any flaws. Her butt wasn't going to get any smaller and she couldn't honestly say that was a bad thing considering how often his hand rested and squeezed there without complaint.

There was a zing that went up and down her spine; a promise that tonight was going to be good.

Grabbing her purse from the table, she turned at the knock at her door, smiling as her stomach twisted and clenched with excitement.

Their table was separate from others, perched outside on the terrace where the smell of blooming roses was intoxicating and the moonlight spilled across them in a way that was so perfectly intimate. He held her hand, never let it go, fingers playing with hers while his smile refused to waver.

They spoke, laughed, whispered with the promise of more when dinner had passed and home was in sight. Her body swayed side to side to the soft music lilting through the open balcony doors and she felt the need to shout with glee; the feelings in her bubbling so brightly.

He felt no fear, no worry, only a warm settling of enthusiasm that filled his chest. He couldn't stop touching her; the soft flesh of her wrist, the ticklish expanse of her forearm, twining their fingers and tracing her palm. It was only as dinner had passed and they sat in the flickering light of the candle, with a half-empty bottle of Pinot in a bucket of ice just behind their table, that he did what he'd wanted to all night. Reaching into his pocket, he produced the ring and watched as her bright grin softened into a sweet smile.

Yes, tonight was going to be a really good night.


	30. His Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home is where the heart is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Challenge** : Shuffle your MP3/iPod and write what fits  
>  **Song** : #04 – Still//Tim McGraw  
> 

In his life, there have been so few places where he felt safe, where he felt the kind of comfort only home can provide. Even his penthouse doesn't have that appeal. And it's taken time, work, but he recognized the feeling when it comes over him, when getting back from patrolling meant going to her. To the Watchtower, both the person and the place.

The quiet is filled only with the beeping of her computers, of intelligence and safety and the knowledge that the world out there is at her fingers, under her careful watch. He's got a place he can put his gear, there's space in her closet where his regular clothes hang, there's a side of her bed reserved for him and a warmth between her arms where he fits.

For a moment, he stands in the center of it all, with the glow of the stained glass falling on him, and he smiles because he knows. He's still, he's quiet, he lets it invade his every sense. The clicking of her fingers, the colors filtering across his body, the safety and warmth of home. And then her arms are around his waist, her face buried in his chest, and he knows that while she and this place are his home, he is hers.

And thank god for that.


	31. Justice Dreamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wonders if it's a balance scheme; if he's meant to hold her up when she falls and vice versa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Challenge** : Shuffle your MP3/iPod and write what fits  
>  **Song** : #04 – Still//Tim McGraw

In his life, there have been so few places where he felt safe, where he felt the kind of comfort only home can provide. Even his penthouse doesn't have that appeal. And it's taken time, work, but he recognized the feeling when it comes over him, when getting back from patrolling meant going to her. To the Watchtower, both the person and the place.

The quiet is filled only with the beeping of her computers, of intelligence and safety and the knowledge that the world out there is at her fingers, under her careful watch. He's got a place he can put his gear, there's space in her closet where his regular clothes hang, there's a side of her bed reserved for him and a warmth between her arms where he fits.

For a moment, he stands in the center of it all, with the glow of the stained glass falling on him, and he smiles because he knows. He's still, he's quiet, he lets it invade his every sense. The clicking of her fingers, the colors filtering across his body, the safety and warmth of home. And then her arms are around his waist, her face buried in his chest, and he knows that while she and this place are his home, he is hers.

And thank god for that.


	32. Ready to Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He never expected this. Or, okay, he never _wanted_ to expect this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Challenge** : Shuffle your MP3/iPod and write what fits  
>  **Song** : #02 - Even Angels Fall//Jessica Riddle  
> 

He never expected this. Or, okay, he never _wanted_ to expect this. Maybe he even closed his eyes, jumped over the edge and hoped for the best. He knew she'd catch him; she always had and always will. So when she takes him up on this no-strings relationship he's happy to know that with her, he'll be safe, she'll be safe, and they'll live it up until they're both beyond caring.

And then she laughs and she smiles and he sees in her eyes things he never expected to see or want every again. So he flies, he crawls, and he falls. He takes her on the adventure with him and blindly hopes she'll feel the same; that he can _make_ her see it his way. But her eyes are closed while his are wide and she refuses to acknowledge the signs, even when he's holding her in the dead of night, both wearing pajamas with no exhausting and primal sex to get them there. When he's tucking her hair behind her ear and smiling at her like she's his own personal angel, a private joke she's not in on.

Time passes and nothing changes; nothing but his feelings anyway. In her he's found hope again, true love, and lost his heart until it actually _ached_ in his chest. She made it so easy, made him free, and when he's standing alone on the precipice of no-turning-back, he stops, wishes she was there, and wonders if she ever will be.

He keeps it to himself, this secret where one day it's heaven and one day it's hell, loving her and knowing she doesn't, won't or _can't_ feel the same. But that's just how it goes. And he continues on, hoping, wishing, waiting for that day when he'll look up and see she's poised to take the leap, knowing he'll catch her on her way down. His angel, falling, for _him_.

Finally.


	33. For Keeps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She considers this a test; one she must pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Challenge** : Shuffle your MP3/iPod and write what fits  
>  **Song** : #01 – Russian Roulette//Rihanna  
> 

She takes a breath, deeply, another. Tries to calm herself, her heart, so loud and pounding he could no doubt see it beating through her chest. She's terrified but she won't leave, won't give up.

His fingers are at her temple, sliding through her hair, gentle, soft. And she relaxes into him, falls a little; she questions what the hell she's doing. Friends. Lovers. A line not to be crossed. Fun. Trust. No strings attached. It should be easy; as simple as smiling and letting it happen.

But this is him, this is _Oliver_. And he stands there, so at ease, so calm. And when he leans in to kiss her, he offers, "Close your eyes, sometimes it helps." She realizes all too clearly that he's used to this, has done this before; she shouldn't be surprised. She's only had one lover before him and it's _laughable_ to think he'd be the same. She knows for a fact he was with Lois and Tess and countless others.

She considers this a test though; close her eyes, let it happen, or face it for what it really is and accept that this was a game she was walking into with all of herself well aware. His arm slides around her waist, bracing, possessive in a way she hadn't expected. And it goes unsaid but known; this is solid, this is just between them, this will keep them grounded without having to look elsewhere and risk too much.

All she has to do is pull the trigger, walk into that embrace and let herself go.

So she wraps her arms around his neck, tilts her heads, stares into those deep brown eyes that promise fun, excitement, someone she can fall back on and know will always be there to catch her. She thinks she can do this, thinks she can have this with him and walk away in tact. But when his lips meet hers, her eyes fall closed and she knows only one thing for certain.

Oliver Queen plays for keeps and now that he's got her, he won't let her go.


	34. Bitter Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tess has a point to prove, but when she does it wasn't the one she planned to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Spoilers** : Checkmate (9x16), Charade (9x18)

Tess' lips firmed into an unbecoming line of firm disapproval. She thought she was past this; she thought any bitter thoughts over what she often considered Oliver's _playmates_ were long forgotten. One only had to look at a tabloid to be reminded that he was _not_ the type to stick around long or invest himself in anyone. She'd been one of two who had tried and nearly accomplished taming him, only to realize failure hurt all the more when it was in sight. But unlike Lois Lane, Tess had worn her heartbreak like battle scars and she'd never _quite_ recovered from it. In some ways, he was the reason behind who she was today; whether she should thank of hate him for that, she couldn't be sure.

And over the last couple years, she'd taken great enjoyment out of seeing him fail at interesting her once more. That she would even _consider_ him after all they'd been through and all the hurt that came of it was laughable. Perhaps she was a willing partner in the more _fun_ avenues they'd once enjoyed, but to put her heart on the line again would be love suicide. She knew that. Which was why she was confused now; why her feelings of late had come into question. Oliver Queen – ex-lover, sometimes nemesis, heartbreaker extraordinaire – was at it again. But the woman attached to him this time was not reminiscent of the past; she was not of money or out to get her face in the movies. In fact, she was more recluse than anything else, which was why Tess never really expected her to fall for the usual Queen charm. While she and Chloe Sullivan were by no means friends, she had to wonder if the young woman had bumped her head lately to risk herself with Oliver. Old wounds were quickly opening and she found herself sneering in memory of how cocky and secure in her status with Oliver Chloe had seemed. For someone so intelligent, she was being extremely dense. Didn't she _know_ him at all? Didn't she _understand_?

A slash of pain at her chest reminded her that those wounds were buried for a reason and whether this was intense dislike for the new couple or the desire for the past she'd long wanted to forget, she couldn't tell. Oliver had broken her heart and it had never truly mended; if anything, it had hardened and darkened and was near impossible to find. There were times when she felt it beat again; pulsing with the intense desire she had whenever she came up with her latest ploy to save the world or destroy it, sometimes even she was confused on what she was doing. Justice, what a convoluted subject, and sitting where she was, surrounding by who she was, she was never quite sure which side she was on anymore.

To think, her ex-boyfriend was the Green Arrow, a figurehead for all that she'd never thought him to associate with. Part of her wanted to laugh, another to cheer, and another to weep over how very different they both were now. She, a CEO to Luthorcorp, ally to the Kandorians, bedmate to Zod, agent for Checkmate – even if she was AWOL, and he… He painted the same image he had then; a philandering, careless man, whose only dream was to spread his money and charm whomever he could. But then, behind the curtain there always was more to be found. Green Arrow, purveyor of justice, enemy to Lex, Zod… _her_.

_And if you ever come near me or my friends ever again… I will expose you to the world, do you understand?_

The last words he ever spoke to her, even after knowing that it could very well be the last time they ever saw each other. An apology, a hope for redemption, dashed, useless, tossed away. There was a moment, sitting there in the quiet of night, with nothing but the cold metal of the chairs they sat on and the tiny empty table between them, where she wondered… If she could go back, do it all differently, would they have _made_ it? There was a time, he'd said, when he wanted to go back… to her freckles, to _her_ … When he'd been able to trust her, to know that there was nothing more than a woman out to change the world for the better and love him while she did it. And he hadn't even flinched when he told her that was over, that those feelings were gone and could never come back. _Why?_ she'd wanted to ask. She wasn't the only one who screwed up, who broke hearts… But then she saw it and she _knew_ … It wasn't just him and her anymore; it wasn't just their past and their future.

There was a time when Oliver Queen had loved her, when just a smile from him to her could melt ice. There was a time when he'd spoke of marriage, when there was a future that saw the two of them happy. And then things changed, life interfered, the person he was clashed with the person he wanted to be and he let it. He let it take him away, to hurt her, to ruin any of those dreams. But she saw them in his eyes again; she saw that smile again. Only it wasn't directed at her anymore; now only icy indifference and heartbreaking disappointment was exchanged between her and Oliver. But that smile, those hopes and dreams and the warmth that had once touched her soul, had woken, fired to life, and now it had somebody else to focus on.

It shouldn't have hurt but God, it did. It burned and coiled around the scars of her heart, reopening every gushing wound until she could barely hide behind the mask of cold carelessness she'd perfected so long ago.

She knew that all too well when she stood in the quiet emptiness of Oliver's office with only the formidable and often all-knowing Chloe Sullivan to spar verbally with.

She stood like a sentinel, her feet parted, posture taut and ready to fight.

Tess removed her sunglasses, grinned humorlessly and scoffed as if it meant little, even if she saw it more clearly than ever as Chloe in between her and Oliver, as the one person standing between the past and the future. "Oliver gave you keys to his office… He must trust you with just about all of his secrets."

Chloe gave a quick, almost nonexistent smile. "Tess." Her brows furrowed with feigned confusion. "I thought you were supposed to be underground. You know if you're having a hard time finding your way there I'm sure I can help."

Tess gave a mental sigh, eyes widening only momentarily. "So we're over the temporary truce and it's back to fire at will," she recognized, stepping into the office. "Okay. Just remember Chloe that out there I might be MIA but in here....I'm still CEO." She cocked a meaningful brow but only received a smile that was all too insincere and knowing. Not for the first time, she wondered just what it was Chloe knew that she didn't. Pausing, she looked around the office before wondering aloud, "Where _is_ Oliver?"

Yet another signature Sullivan smirk served to unnerve her. "Out of town," she replied with the kind of underlying meaning that rankled her. Caring little for what Tess thought or had to say on the subject, she walked past her to her bag.

Tess considered for a moment whether she wanted to ask or not, but ended up taking the bait. "I was curious how you two.....got into each other's orbit." She hoped her interest wasn't obvious and focused her face elsewhere in hopes that Chloe wouldn't be able to read her expression.

"Mutual friends." With a zip of her bag, she tossed over her shoulder, "Which I understand you could use some help finding… considering you have to go into _outer space_ to look for them." Her dubious voice served to make Tess turn, a higher purpose making her face her once temporary ally.

"The Kandorians?" She smirked, feeling then as if she knew so much more than her. "You'll see, Chloe, they're better as allies than enemies." She took a step toward her, face hardening slightly. "Clark gets that, why don't you and Oliver?"

Not even slightly intimidated, Chloe nodded. "Clark optimistically thinks that Zod will be happy wearing an apron and slinging coffees. We don't." She turned back to her bag. "Especially now that he has powers." She walked toward the door then, as if the conversation was done.

Tess stared down a moment before asking, "We…?" She stared at Chloe's leaving back. "As in you and Green Arrow?" She took some small measure of enjoyment as Chloe paused. "Chloe...I get what you see in your heroes but what do they see in you?" Honestly, she couldn't say then whether it was a jab at her and Oliver or just at the woman herself.

With a quick turn, she shot back just as easily, "I can ask Zod the same question of you but I guess I don't have to anymore." A sinking in Tess' stomach told her more than Chloe's words would, though they would cement what she should have already known. "I've been watching you two and it seems like Zod hasn't been home for dinner in quite awhile." Her tone was not appreciated and nor was the warning that followed. "Be careful Miss Mercer… or you're gonna run out of people to betray." And as Chloe left, Tess knew more than she wanted to. That Oliver had shared with Chloe all that had transpired that night, including his lack of trust in her, and that perhaps Chloe Sullivan was _right_.

Right or not, however, it didn't stop some part of Tess from hating Chloe on principle alone. So it shouldn't have surprised her when she later found herself opposite Chloe once more, only this time it was _Chloe_ who was caught off guard and not her.

"Excuse the language, but what the hell are you doing here?" Chloe snarked sanctimoniously.

"Taking in the view?" Tess replied nonchalantly, staring out the half-open stained glass window overlooking Metropolis. "And what a view it is…"

Crossing her arms overtop her chest, Chloe's brows furrowed as she walked toward her. "I'm aware. Now was that all or can you find your way out?"

With a half-smile, Tess turned, stared at her with all the penetrating anger she'd banked up over time. But unlike many of her enemies, this one did not shrink or look away. She had to give her credit, if nothing else, Chloe Sullivan didn't intimidate easy. In that moment, Tess wanted to say something that would kick her off her almighty pedestal and stop her in her tracks; instead what came out sounded more like a bitter ex than she'd ever wanted to. "You really think you're any different?" she wondered, eyes narrowing. "You think he'll be your Prince Charming?" She paused, snickered. "Trust me, it wears off."

Brows furrowed once more, her head reared back an inch. "Girl talk? Really? You wanted to stop in and give me the lo-down on Ollie?" She half-smiled. "No offence, but if I wanted his background with women I'd have consulted a tabloid." With that, she turned, ready to leave Tess and her advice in the dust.

"You know I always wondered… Who would do it? Who would be that _one_ person who could take him off at the knees?" Knowing she'd caught Chloe's attention, she smiled to herself. "I thought it was Lois once… Your cousin has a knack with men, I'll give her that much. She's not easily forgotten." She tipped her head as Chloe turned to stare at her, lips firmed in a line of irritation. "But _you_ … You I hadn't expected." She laughed almost incredulously. "I thought you of all people might be _smarter_ than that."

With a deep breath, Chloe turned, hands on her hips. "I wouldn't put you in the dense column either, Mercer."

Her smile faltered. "Let's just say he was a different man when I met him."

Chloe's lips curled at the corners. "On the island, you mean?" Tess didn't like that she flinched, that she let her know it physically _hurt_ that Oliver had shared that with anyone, let alone _her_. "A partner in my line of business involves a lot of trust, Tess. And I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that I know _everything_ there is to know about him. Business, romantic, or otherwise."

Tess' brow cocked while she held back a sneer. "So he's learned the meaning then? Because he may have tried but he missed a few lessons in trust and intimacy when we were together."

Bitterness. God, how she hated how it had enfolded her.

"He wasn't exactly _trained_ when I got him either," she admitted with a quiet laugh.

Tess' eyes fell, stared at the floor a moment. "You really think this thing between you will last?" Her icy voice had returned but she couldn't say whether it was out of self-preservation or the need to remind Chloe that Oliver was _not_ the knight in shining armor he might seem.

A full-fledged grin filled her face. "You misunderstand completely. Oliver and I are… having fun." She sighed. "Why that is so hard to understand, I couldn't assume. But there is no white picket fence or Queen spawn in the future, so if you think we're leading somewhere that will _clearly_ hurt you in ways you overlooked, then don't…"

And for a moment, Tess felt the upper-hand return to her. "So that's it then?" She took a step forward. "You've convinced yourself that, _what_? This is all going to end well, bygones and all? Friends with benefits and a job to do?" She scoffed. "Who's the delusional one now, Chloe?" Tucking her hands in her pockets, she stepped forward until they were eye-level. "I came here because I thought it was only right I warn you… And yes, maybe I was even a little jealous or hurt…" Her eyes fell, turned to the side in remembrance. "That once upon a time feeling was mine for awhile and maybe you think I'm aligned with the devil but it doesn't change my history." Returning her sharp gaze to her, she sighed. "I see the way he looks at you and I see the way you look at him. That's not friendship or partners and certainly isn't a passing feeling." Her lips quivered momentarily. "You can trust me on that." Swallowing, she returned to her careless façade. "We're not friends and unless some earth-ending situation comes up, we're not allies, but from one woman who loved him to another…" She stared at her, honest and without need for exaggeration. "It's never really over. Not with him. So you can either have him all or have none of him." With that, she turned to leave, her shoulders straight and her chin lifted high.

"You came here to tell me _that?_ " Chloe called after her.

"No…" She paused, smirked back at her. "I came here to dash any fantasies you might have of him being perfect." With a cocked brow, she added, "But then I realized you already knew that. What you didn't know was that you loved him, imperfections and all." With a shrug, she began walking once more. "Oddly enough, that might hurt you more than what I'd planned."

She left Chloe to consider that, walking out of her apartment and well on her way to returning to her own home. She hadn't gone to Chloe thinking she'd help Oliver in his latest love exploit; in fact, she'd more planned to destroy it. But perhaps she and Chloe had more in common than she expected. It didn't mean she liked her, didn't mean she trusted her either, but maybe that bitterness she'd known so well had ebbed some. Tess and Oliver had been matched once and all too mismatched when real life came knocking. But Chloe was no Tess and if she knew him as well as she said she did then maybe they had a better chance. She couldn't be sure and she wouldn't wager on it, but she did know that when she left she felt lighter. Maybe she was letting go of him after all, or maybe she knew he was in more capable hands. Either way, it would be one hell of a show to watch unfold.


	35. Meant to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows she's not ready to hear it…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : Love  
> 

He knows she's not ready to hear it. He knows she won't accept it, might even push him away. No strings, no presents, no celebrations or anniversaries. But as time wears on, he knows better. She tells him to be careful or she might start to think he's falling for her. He's got a newsflash for her; it's already happened. Never before in his life could he say he was particularly nervous around women. He'd always had a way with them; he'd been charming from a young age and had only adapted it as he grew. The money and looks helped, he was sure. But Chloe cared little for those; disregarding her use of his funds early on in their _relationship_. But he feels young and inexperienced around her like he never has before. He doesn't always know what to say, how to approach her, and he doesn't want to push things past her comfort zone until he knows he has to. So he fumbles a bit and he takes her amused smile and he tries to hold his own, but he knows this is new and despite feeling embarrassed, he kind of likes it. Likes that he's different with her, that _together_ they are different.

The fact is he knew this would happen. Just being friends with her had taught him a valuable lesson and getting into any kind of physical relationship was bound to lead to even more. So he let her believe it was all in good fun and maybe in the beginning he'd even convinced himself. But there was little he could do when her smile stirred his stomach or her laugh made his chest ache. He couldn't help himself when he woke in the middle of the night and dragged her petite body back to lay encompassed in his own. If she fit against him just right and she could finish his sentences, then he took it as a sign. She knew him, his secrets and his life, his mistakes and his triumphs, and she neither applauded nor looked down on him for them. She accepted them all as part of him, just as he'd done with her.

From the first moment he laid a finger on her things had changed. From their first kiss, something had sparked. So he let it grow with no expectations and he felt it bloom into something she hadn't wanted or expected. He'd fallen without looking for a net, he'd let go and known that while it might hurt, might even blow up in his face, it was worth it. _She_ was worth it. She hasn't yet, or at least he doesn't think she has. But she will. There was no possible way it could be one-sided. Not with their chemistry and their make-up and the way she fell into his arms as if she knows he'll be there. Not with the way she kisses him, lingers, how she holds him and smiles for him and how her fingers fit into his just right. Not when she reaches for him in the dead-of-night, eyes-closed and says no more than, "Ollie," and expects him to draw her close and warm her, hold her, keep her safe and soothe her back to sleep.

They won't be perfect and the world will not let them live in harmony, but they will grow and they will love. Just as he knows it's meant to be.


	36. Epicosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois muses over the _epicosity_ of Chlollie.

There's something beautiful about them. She wants to say perfect, but she's not so cliché or naïve. Not only will they have their differences, probably a whole lot of them given the stubborn nature of them both, but they live in a world where perfection is obsolete. Still, there's a zing in her chest, and Lois isn't so blind as to ignore what it is.

 _Hope_.

For so long she's seen her little cousin suffer; she's seen her heartbreak, her misfortune, her mistakes and her ex-boyfriends, and all together it's been one very big mess. But now, she can't help but think maybe this is it. Maybe Oliver will be _The One_.

She can't deny that there was a time when, hey, she thought the same about the blonde billionaire with charm to spare in regards to herself. She sees the difference now; it hurt then, knowing that they didn't fit the way they both so wanted to. He was off to do great things and she wasn't ready to share him. Maybe it was selfish or self-preservation, or hell, who knows, maybe it was fate whirling its magic because they were both essentially meant for other people.

Regardless, the time's come where Lois can look at Oliver Queen, can see that smile of his, big and warm and all-encompassing, turned in another woman's direction. She can see the love, the bone-deep affection, and the endless desire to protect right there in the plains of his face. And she knows, deep down, without a shadow of a doubt, that this man, this former-playboy extraordinaire, is completely and unabashedly in love with Chloe Sullivan. Her little cousin; the woman with enough gumption to fit six of her, all packed in a petite, curvy blonde with six inch heels. Jaded, focused, careful Chloe…

"Fun," she'd called it. Harmless, stringless, labeless, _fun_.

Lois mentally snorted.

Whether she knew it or not, Chloe had met her match. Whether she'd fallen yet or not she was due for a face-plant and while she wouldn't like it, faithful Oliver would be there to catch her. It would hurt, it would bruise that shield she carried around wherever she went now, but it would do her some good too. Sure, she needed fun; bucket loads of it too. And if she wanted to believe it came in the form of sweaty bed gymnastics with fellow justice-seeker Ollie, then have at it. But Lois knew better and she had this one figured out the moment the two were caught red-handed in matching robes at the bed and breakfast.

A smirk curved her lips.

These two were going to be epic. They were going to be the next Brangelina! They were going to blow the gossip hounds right out of the water. And Lois would have the front-row seat to the whole thing. From the denial of anything more to the slow burn of their obvious love. Popcorn in hand, hawk-eyes on every move, word and signal, she'd bare witness to the creation of _Chlollie_ , the greatest love this world's ever seen.

Well, besides _Clois_. Maybe it wouldn't be in the magazines next to Michelle Obama's latest wardrobe thumb up or thumb down and maybe she and Clark wouldn't be compared to the TomKat's of the world, but hey… They had their own secluded love-nest and no paparazzi to intrude. So all the power to Chloe and Oliver and their oblivious epicosity, she and Clark would be living it up in the background.

Back on topic, she reminded herself…

With a ridiculous smile on her face, she stared at the two persons of interest that she'd conned into a double-date (that wasn't a date, according to Chloe – but so _was_ , according to Lois), and knew her smile was ridiculously unnerving.

Exchanging a look, Chloe and Oliver did their _talk-without-words-because-we-know-each-other-so-well_ thing and maybe Lois giggled a little, except not because she was _so_ not a giggler.

"Okay… _Maybe_ you need to cut back on the caffeine," Chloe suggested, staring wide-eyed at her. "And a drug test might be in order, too… Did you have something you wanted to tell us? Do we need to stage an intervention?"

"I've got Monday free," Oliver suggested, half-smiling in all of his confident, snarky self. "Sunday's booked and Tuesday's looking busy… How about you Sidekick? We can merge our schedules see what time's best. Bring in Emil to get the final diagnosis." With a smirk in Lois' direction, he added, "Don't worry about the cost. We'll get you into a high class rehab and have you back to your only slightly crazy self ASAP."

"Har, har," she replied, rolling her eyes. "All right so I'm less covert than I thought I was. Maybe I'm just having a good day and felt like smiling. Is that all right?"

"Sure…" Chloe said, nodding slowly. "Unless you seem to be mentally planning something that involves us; I feel like I can hear you cackling in my head… It's disturbing."

Lois huffed, but spotted Clark just then which would thankfully distract her favorite oblivious duo from prodding her for more answers. With the always handsome Clark at her right and the soon-to-be-epic _Chlollie_ in front of her, she still couldn't hide her knowing grin.

It was only when Clark gave her that same weird look Chloe and Oliver were that she tried to turn it down. She couldn't let them _know_ she knew what they didn't, or more likely were avoiding like the plague! She had to let this one play out on its own, she had to pretend she didn't believe it was going to evolve into the flowers and gifts and very _stringy_ relationship she could already see forming between them. If she mentally clapped and did a little dance of joy, well, _whatever!_ So she was excited for them; that wasn't a crime. It was about damn time the two of them moved on and quit living in their less than awesome past. And if she had to be the invisible cheerleader, rooting for them on the sidelines without being seen, then fine. She would. Because she _knew_ what they were afraid to admit to each other and themselves.

Oliver Queen and Chloe Sullivan were just this side of perfect. As close as this world was going to let them be. So yeah, they were kind of beautiful. In their still blooming, meant to be great, going to rock the socks off each other and all who bore witness, way. And if Lois wanted to be an aunty to a few seriously awesome blonde cuties, that was just a bonus!


	37. Interruptions

Mia looked between them worriedly. "Did I just interrupt something?"

"What are you doing here?" Oliver asked, brows furrowed.

"Never mind that. No, Mia. You didn't interrupt anything." Turning on her heel quickly, Chloe called back, "I was just leaving."

"Wait!" Oliver watched after her, shoulders slumping as she disappeared from sight.

"I _definitely_ interrupted something..." Mia bit her lip. "Do over?"

He glanced at her before rolling his eyes. "You're fast, Mia, but you don't have the power to turn back time."

"True," she agreed, nodding hurriedly. "But I _can_ catch up to her and convince her to give you another chance... regardless of whatever stupid thing you said or did!" Walking backwards, she grinned teasingly.

"Hey! Who said it was _my_ fault?" he argued, frowning.

She snorted. "Take my advice, Oliver. Own your mistake and get the girl." Hands on her hips, she cocked her head. "The alternative means any amount of time without Chloe... and we both know you go through Tiny Blonde Withdrawal with painful accuracy."

He pursed his lips at her and then waved a hand, as if telling her to go get Chloe back.

"Good idea, boss." Skipping back, she hurried after her mentor's girlfriend, calling out purposely, "Chloe! Come back! You know we can't stand him without you as a buffer!"

 

 


	38. Kiss and Make Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [sequel to Interruptions]

"All I'm asking is that you hear him out," she asked, staring at Chloe with all the pleading she could manage.

"You don't even  _know_  what we were talking about," Chloe reminded. "You're only doing this because he mopes when he's upset."

"No..." Mia denied. "I'm doing this because when  _mom and pops_  are fighting, the kids suffer." She nodded her head vigorously. "Ollie gets pouty and keeps looking at the computers like you'll jump out of one at any second. Frankly, it's a little pathetic, but that's just me!"

"And  _you_  are officially fired as my in-between when it comes to personal relationships," Oliver's voice interrupted.

Mia whirled. "Oh, hey... There you are..." She smiled uncomfortably. "I almost had her convinced you know."

"That I was pathetically lovesick, maybe..." he muttered.

"Wouldn't be wrong," she replied snarkily. With a sigh, she rolled her eyes. "Look, all I want is for you to kiss and make up... and by that I mean just make up because the kissing part...?" Her face scrunched up. "Totally not necessary. But, you know... The you-two-being-together..." Her feet shifted. "Kind of important."

Chloe smiled knowingly. "Mia... we argued. It doesn't mean we're breaking up  _or_  that you'll lose us in any capacity... It just means that we disagreed and trust me..." She grinned. "It happens."

Oliver stepped up next to her, looking just as earnest. "But we get through it."

Chloe looked up at him, adoration seeping through her previous irritation. "Always."

Mia pursed her lips. "Ew. You guys are getting lovey-dovey again."

He snorted. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"No... I wanted you together, just not in front of me."

With a laugh, they shook their heads. And even if she faked gagging over their affection, she was smiling on the inside.


	39. Of Sons and Hospitals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was his father's pride and joy, his mother's baby boy, and his sister's hero. They would never be the same without him.

While the ringing phone broke his concentration from work, the smile that bloomed out of seeing her name on the call display fled almost immediately.

" _Ollie?_ " the frantic note in her voice has his spine tightening painfully, his entire body tensing.

"What happened?" he asked, already shoving his CEO work away and standing from his desk, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair.

"It's Connor," she breathed, her voice catching at the end.

His heart stopped, hands shaking as he yanked the sleeves up his arms and ran toward the elevator. "Where are you?"

"Hospital. I got a call from the school, he was rushed in, they haven't told me much. I… I don't know what to do!"

"Okay, okay…" He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried to find his inner-calm. "I'm on my way. Just… Stay strong."

She sniffled and he knew she was nodding. "'Kay."

They hung up and his _so-called_ calm was gone. He punched the elevator wall, not caring that his fist dented the metal walling. His son, his seven year old son, was in the hospital, and he didn't know why… Heart hammering in his chest, palms sweating, his mind started going through all the many reasons he could be on his way to the hospital. When school had come into question, he and Chloe had argued over where there son would go. Private school offered a lot more security and while they wanted to raise their son as regularly as possible the truth was he was the heir to billions, so he couldn't always _be_ considered normal. All the same, they didn't want him to have an unusual or sheltered childhood. In the end, they agreed to visit each school and make the decision based on what they thought was better for their son and not on what _could_ or _might_ happen.

The private school offered a great education but it wasn't very personable; it was too sterile for Chloe's liking. Their son was a happy little boy, cheerful and excited to run around and climb trees and play Green Arrow and League with his best friends, John Kent and Dean Curry. They couldn't imagine him in an encrusted suit with pressed pants and a name to uphold. They just wanted him to be safe and happy. So they went with the public school, even if he upped the security by adding round-the-clock guards to walk the perimeter and metal detectors at the front doors. Yes, it was an elementary school, but there were still sick people out there.

Now he wondered if he made the right decision.

With all the things that happened in their lives, the bad guys they fought, they justice they brought, it all added up to a dangerous lifestyle. Years ago, before they were married and just a couple of twenty-somethings out to change the world, they hadn't given much thought to what that might to do to their future children. Hell, in between archery lessons that led to indescribable sex on the Watchtower floor and learning to love again, they hadn't thought of _children_ at all. But then five years had passed and they were walking down an aisle to their future; one where he couldn't imagine a lifetime spent with anybody else, couldn't see anybody else there by his side. And the marital bliss, honeymoon and copious amounts of lovemaking led to Connor; a bundle of screaming, pooping, joy. Oliver knew the moment Chloe said she was pregnant that he was always meant to be a dad; he was going to be to Connor what Robert Queen barely got to be to him. And three years later, Lauren was added to their family; a tiny blonde baby girl that he swore wrinkled her nose just like her mother. She was in pre-school now; probably sneaking orange slices when she should be napping, like she was prone to do.

The idea that their happily ever after might be ruined by the loss of their son; that his sarcastic little charmer could be lost… It broke his heart. At seven, Connor was a mischievous kid who did everything under his power to push the limits of life. He was a little bundle of energetic terror and his parents loved him for it. Even if he scared the living crap out of them with his acrobatics off of furniture or his desire to learn how to drive at such a young age; that Porsche would never be the same. He still loved to cuddle and when he got hurt, he went to his mom for a kiss – just one though, because he was a 'big boy.' He was smart and tenacious and he never failed to make people laugh. He was his father's pride and joy, his mother's baby boy, and his sister's hero. They would never be the same without him.

The drive to the hospital seemed to go by in a flash of red and green lights, honking horns and angry drivers. He was sure he broke a few laws and might've even outmaneuvered a bike-cop. He parked illegally and sideways and ran through the emergency doors of Star City General, eyes searching out a familiar face or anybody who could help. Finally, he went to the front desk, ignoring the other people waiting.

"Connor Queen," he bit out, his tone stating he needed answers and didn't want to be jerked around.

Maybe it was the look on his face or maybe it was just easier to get rid of him now, but the nurse didn't argue. She glanced at him and then back down at her paperwork. "Go straight, turn right three halls down and you'll see your wife…" She pursed her lips, glaring up at him. "If you'd ask her to stop interrogating my staff, it'd be appreciated."

He gave a short nod before following her directions, his feet nearly running down the hallways as he darted past patients and doctors alike. He came to a skidding halt as he spotted Chloe; she was pacing, hands wringing, and his stomach fell to his feet. She wasn't crying; that was a good sign. She wasn't curled up on the floor in the fetal position, so he assumed their son was still alive. He hurried to her; seeing her stricken expression he immediately felt his chest ache in response.

When she looked up and saw him, her relief was immediate. Her shoulders slumped and she was running, accepting his embrace and wrapping her arms tight around him. "H-He fell… Out of a _tree!_ " She laughed slightly hysterically. "He hit his head, broke his arm, he…" She sniffled, hands gripping the back of his coat desperately.

A sigh escaped him; his eyes fell closed. Of all the things he imagined, this was tame. Still… "Is he awake?"

She shook her head. "He was unconscious when they found him and he hasn't woken up since…"

"He'll be okay," he assured her, but inside he wondered.

"You don't know that!" she argued angrily.

He squeezed her tight. "Chlo… How many times has he fallen off things?" he asked, stroking a hand down her hair, kneading her neck. "Remember when he wanted to be Superman and he jumped off the bookshelf?"

She laughed tearfully. "He missed that pile of pillows entirely! Six stitches to his forehead and you rounded off every corner on every table in the house…" She looked up at him; her chin perched on his chest. "Or when he tried to beat Dean at who could hold their breath under water the longest…" She shook her head, frowning. "He gets that stubborn streak from you! Imagine, trying to beat a boy who can _breathe underwater_ …"

He snorted. "Trust me; he's extra stubborn because of _both_ of his parents."

"You remember…?" She smiled. "The first time you taught him to shoot an arrow…"

He frowned, wincing. "And we started bringing up _my_ visits to the hospital, _why?_ "

She chuckled sweetly. "You couldn't sit for a week!"

He let a smile break through. "Last time I let one of the kids use my bow without safety gear on; head to toe." Reaching up, his fingers wiped lingering tear stains from her cheeks. "He's _ours_ … He'll be fine."

And then he saw it; a lightness came over her, a trust that only _he_ could instill in her, and vice versa. She believed him; took his words for truth.

Gathering her up, he wrapped his arm around her, hand cupping her opposite shoulder. Her head tucked against his chest, arms loose at his waist, she closed her eyes and with a nod, she just breathed. Cheek to her forehead, he stared at the floor, ignoring the ugly yellow and blue curtains that surrounded their son's bed or the squeaky-clean white hospital floor; preferring to think of what it would be like when this was all over, behind them. Soon, they would be home; their son would be resting in his green racecar bed, excited to have people sign his arm-cast and rolling his eyes at his mom's incessant kisses and hugs. He would tell his dad all about how high he got in the tree before his foot slipped and how he didn't like the jello at the hospital; it just didn't taste the same as mom's. And Oliver would tell him that was because his mom added whip-cream and all would be fine. Lauren would sneak in to see how hurt he was; she'd sign her name with a backwards "e" and draw a heart before she kissed his cast to make him feel better and Connor would boast that he didn't cry and it didn't hurt, making her even more in awe of him. He'd puff out his chest and know that he was her hero, even when she brought in her dolls to keep him company while he recuperated.

There was a rustle behind the curtain then; movement, a groan, and his heart skipped a beat. Reaching out, Oliver shoved the curtain out of the way and saw his drowsy son looking around, confused. "Wha' hap'n'd?" he muttered, reaching up to scrub his eyes, only to see his cast. His face lit up. "Cool! Mom! Dad! Look!"

Oliver laughed, shaking his head. A tear escaped; of happiness, relief. His chest bloomed warm, thankful; their family would stay in tact.

And as his wife hurried to their son, hugging him close and kissing all over his face while little Connor complained and groaned, Oliver just grinned.

Yeah, everything was going to be just fine.  



	40. Picture Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A picturesque beach scene encourages Clark to see something in his two friends that makes _sense_.

Smirking with satisfaction at the couple currently _frolicking_ in the rolling waves, Lois rubbed her hands together. Over her shoulder, she exclaimed, "Smallville! Get my camera!"

Rolling his eyes, Clark walked back to the sandy beach to dig around for Lois' camera amongst their things, piled atop beach towels. After a two minute battle with her menace of a giant purse, filled with everything under the sun, he used his x-ray vision for easier searching.

" _Today,_ Clark!" she complained, looking from him to the water and back again.

Sighing, he finally yanked it out from the bottom, trapped beneath two hairbrushes, a pile of makeup and her half-dead iPhone. When he reached her side, handing over the camera, he frowned. "Here."

Snatching it from him quickly, she picked it up, aimed and— _nothing._ "Damn it! _Batteries!"_ Turning to Clark, eyes wide with innocence, she grinned hopefully, "I think I have some—"

Glowering, he interrupted, "In your purse." With a sigh, he trudged back through the hot sand, unconsciously wiggling his toes in the grains that stuck to wet skin. Deciding not to bother, he simply turned it over, spilling everything across her red and blue towel and plucked up the already-open and half-empty pack of batteries. Back at her side once more, he handed them over.

Tossing her empties to the beach, of which Clark promptly cleaned up, she stuck the new pair in and pushed the power button, impatiently chewing her lip while she waited for it turn on.

"What's the hurry?" he asked her.

"Uh, _hello_ …" She waved her hands at Chloe and Oliver; her cousin was on her boyfriend's (or in Lois' terms – _the love of Chloe's **life!** )_ back, arms loosely encircling his neck, while Oliver walked through the crashing surf, kicking up bubbly white water and splashing them in the process. Laughing, smiles large enough to say all Lois couldn't hear, they were oblivious to every other human alive.

"This is just the proof I need!" she told him, excitedly. Shaking her camera, her smile became a frown. "As soon as this stupid thing—"

When she gave it another shake, Clark took it away, patiently removing the batteries and putting them back in the right way.

"Show-off," she muttered, yanking it back.

Hiding an amused smile, he instead asked, "Proof?"

" _Look at them!_ They can't tell me they're _taking it slow_ when they're acting like _that!_ "

Clark sighed. "Lois… I thought you promised not to meddle."

"Pfft!" she scoffed, angling the camera out at the couple who were currently talking low enough so only each other could hear.

As Chloe's tinkling laugh lit the air, Lois looked at Clark as if she'd somehow proven a point.

Blinking, he crossed his arms over his chest and simply waited for her to take her picture. When she was done, he was going to toss her into the water. She'd been tanning the last couple hours and the water looked too good to pass up; if it helped wipe that smug expression away, bonus point for him. He loved her enough to admit she brought out a not-so-Boyscout side of him and he enjoyed it.

"Hey! Lovebirds! Over here!" she shouted.

Looking up, they caught sight of her on the beach and their already wide smiles grew at her insistence and loftily held camera.

Hands wrapped loosely around Chloe's thighs, Oliver's leaned forward for better leverage as he awaited the telling flash of the camera. Loosening an arm from around him, Chloe reached up to tuck stray hair off her face and behind her ear, resting her elbow lightly on his bare, sun-kissed shoulders.

They looked right together, Clark thought. A surprising conclusion since when he first realized what was going on between them he'd been uncertain and unconvinced they'd last in any capacity. Nearly a year later and they were still going together, although they'd dropped all pretenses of a 'just-having-fun' label and were now swimming through unexplored relationship water. Despite both of their dating histories, it seemed what they had together was new and lasting and they were careful not to jinx it. Clark knew now what Lois meant; that even if they _tried_ to argue that it was anything less than a committed, long-term relationship the truth was in the picture they made.

As Lois lowered her camera, satisfied, the two returned to their earlier fun. Arms back around Oliver's shoulders, she leaned into him to say something and in response he turned to lightly kiss her forearm. Expression softening, he turned back to look at her and she returned that same love-struck affection.

"See!" Lois exclaimed, shoving the camera and its picture in Clark's face.

He didn't have to look, instead keeping his gaze on Chloe and Oliver as they stood with the waves crashing all around; Chloe holding tight to her human pillar of support and love while Oliver anchored her to him in a way that said it all. Clark thought, in that moment, he might've just given his blessing to them and couldn't help but hope that what they'd found in each other, what they deserved with and from one another, really would last.

"Yeah… You're right." He grinned at his girlfriend, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her in close to his side.

Fitting an arm around his waist, she rested her head against his chest and sighed wistfully. "They're gonna make cute babies."

He snorted at her candor. "Give them a few years to come to grips with having finally found each other."

" _Years_ ," she repeated incredulously. "Hah! If I'm not popping out any super-alien-awesome's for awhile - and _I'm not!_ \- then she has to make up for the time in-between!" Pouting, she stared at the two with a suspicious glint in her eyes. "Trust me, they'll thank me later."

Clark sighed.

Deciding to distract her and continue with his earlier plan, he quickly hauled her up into his arms, ignoring her knowing shriek, and ran toward the coming waves. If she didn't forget her earlier decision to somehow get her cousin and Oliver pregnant – and _soon_ – then he'd just have to find some _other_ way to distract her. He smirked as they slid beneath the cool water, her arms and legs wrapping tight around his body. He wasn't complaining.


	41. Finding Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She runs. He chases.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : [picture](http://ellashy.livejournal.com/31476.html#cutid1) by [ellashy](http://ellashy.livejournal.com/)

_Stop._ Inhale. Exhale.

Heart; hitches, awakens, thrums to life.

A touch. Light. Fingers brushing her wrist.

Her pulse – _booms_ – loud in her ears.

Desire. White hot. His touch, his gaze, the pulse between them.

Shaking; from the inside out.

Fight; don't want to, must.

Rushing, running; away, always away.

 _Stop_. Wait. Pause.

Close, so close. _Too close_.

Back up, arms out; shove, push, block.

A smirk. His. Tender, knowing, _arrogant._

A glare. Hers. Suspicious, careful, a front.

Fingers; twining, stroking, comforting, pulling her closer.

Heels; dug in, holding steady, resilient.

Kiss. Expected. Unexpected. Soft lips; moving, encouraging, drowning.

Warmth, heat, lust; along her skin, curling, spreading.

Sweat; pooling, dripping, beading.

Eyes; open, staring, waiting.

Waiting on a sign; wrong, end of chase, death to future.

He stares back. Hooded brown eyes; serious, strong, unwavering.

Tears; warm, salty, trailing down familiar tracks.

Big hands; reaching, wiping, soothing.

Hope; blooming, desperate, tamped down.

Flee. Feet moving, chest aching, panic spreading.

Self-preservation. History repeats itself; mantra.  
  
He gives chase.  
  
Airport. Dart meets map. Ticket to anywhere; to nowhere.  
  
Spotted. Feet moving. Turn, run, avoid.  
  
Lunges. Reaches. _Caught._

He holds on, holds tight, refuses to let go.

Struggle. Stop. Still.

Defeat; release, calm, understanding.

Turn, wait, accept.

Bodies; tight, pelvis to pelvis, hand at her back, heads bowed together.

"Stay." _Please._

 _No. No. N—_ "Okay."

He stares at her mouth, as if the words are wrong, as if she can't be letting it happen.

Smile. Her. Not defeated. _Won_.

Stares. Him. Searching.

"You're sure?"

"No..." Sighs. "But I'm ready to try."

Hope dawns, spreads, connects two souls.

Exhale. Inhale. _Go._  



	42. Living For Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even in death he loved her too much to let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger Warning** : Character Deaths

_“Death ends a life, not a relationship.”_ \- **Robert Benchley**

Oliver stared down at the gold band around his left ring finger, a ridiculously large grin on his face. Three and a half years they’d been together and they suddenly packed up and took his jet to Las Vegas for a quickie wedding. He’d never felt better than he did in that moment. He remembered what brought it on, despite the fact that it all seemed to happen in a blink of the eye. They’d been in bed at their Metropolis apartment, the morning sun peeking through the window, reminding them another day had begun and they would have to participate eventually. But they were enjoying their languid time together as much as they could…

_She looked so beautiful, laid out beside him, her hair mussed and her cheeks flushed with morning. She stared up at him with penetrating green eyes, yet another reason for him to love the color. Her skin was an alabaster white, soft beneath his fingertips and his mouth. She smiled as he trailed his hand down her shoulder and across her collar, fingers dipping lower, tracing the curves of her breasts. She giggled softly as he tickled her skin and he grinned before leaning down to kiss her stomach, nose nuzzling her lightly as he journeyed higher, tasting the roundness of her hips, the ticklish area of her ribs, the soft-firmness of her breasts, the curve of her neck, down the slope of her arm, the inside of her wrist, the lines of her palm, the tips of her fingers. Her hand delved into his hair, running it through her fingers as he laid his ear down on her stomach, smiling up at her contently._

_“What do you want out of life?” he asked her, his voice low and husky still with the early day._

_“Want?” she replied, her brow furrowing._

_“Yeah. Dreams, aspirations, anything. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” His fingers drummed over her ribs as he sat waiting for her response._

_“Some things can’t be given,” she reminded, shaking her head._

_“Like what?”_

_“Like experiences.” She shook her head, grinning. “I’d like to…” She laughed, shrugging, “Feel the air beneath me as I hand glide or- or the rocks beneath my fingers as I climb a mountain. I- I want to swim in the bluest ocean and see the most beautiful cities. I want to write about them, live in them, breathe their air!” she told him dreamily. “I’d like to backpack all over Europe, sleeping in hostels or just under the stars in a tent. I want to experience life to the fullest. Without the darkness and the crime and the death threats.” She sighed, smiling. “I want to get married one day and have children. I want to know what it feels like to be a mom and watch as my children grow and learn and live their lives to the fullest. Preferably without the same difficulties I had; meteor freaks included. And… And I want to lay here with you for the rest of the day, no interruptions and no clothes,” she said, grinning._

_He smiled softly. “I can give you some of that.”_

_“Yeah? So we’ll turn the phones off?” she asked, eyes widening with excitement._

_He laughed, nodding. “And I can do you one better.” He rolled to a sitting position, straddling her waist and leaning forward so his mouth was just inches from hers, their hands entwined on the pillows on either side of her head. She smiled up at him, her eyes glittering with amusement. “Marry me?”_

_Her expression became shocked then, wide eyed and slack jawed. “W-What?”_

_He nodded. “Marry me. Now, tonight, wherever you want. We’ll go to Europe if you’d like. Just… Just say yes.”_

_  
“Ollie this is… This is so sudden,” she said, shaking her head slightly._

_“Everything about us is sudden, Chloe. Our whole lives are one sudden mess. But us… We’re… We’re great together and I can see it, twenty or thirty years from now and we’re still great.”_

_“We can’t just…” She trailed off, her mouth opening and closing. “Can we? I mean it’s so…”_

_He chuckled, smiling at her sweetly. “We can have a big one when we get back if you want. But I want you to be my wife now, before you can change your mind,” he teased._

_“Are… Are you sure about this?” she asked, her brows lifting with uncertainty._

_“Completely,” he said, nodding._

_She stared at him, her teeth gnawing at her lip._

_He let go of one of her hands to cup her cheek, thumb caressing her skin. “I love you. Your insatiable curiosity and your knack for getting into trouble. I love waking up next to you, going to sleep beside you. I love that Sullivan smile of yours that could light up a room and I love… I love your dreams and I want to be part of them.”_

_Her eyes glistened slightly and she let out a choked chuckle before she nodded. “I love you, too.”_

_“Then marry me, please? We can go to Vegas or Paris or wherever,” he told her, eyes wide with the possibilities._

_“Yes,” she said, smiling shakily. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”_

_He kissed her in between his happy laughter. Her arms wrapped tight around his neck and they rolled over on the bed, sheets shucked off and hands roaming all over. They could catch a plane in a little bit; they had some celebrating to do._

And now he was sitting on his private jet with his wife next to him, her head on his shoulder. Their hands sat entwined in her lap, her fingers fiddling with his wedding ring. They were married by some cheesy looking Elvis impersonator that Chloe said they simply couldn’t pass up. It was quick and it was less than phenomenal but it was legal. They were married and she was his and he was hers. He wasn’t sure how they were going to explain it to their friends or her father. He winced. Gabe wasn’t going to be very forgiving. But they’d agreed to have a big wedding later, for now it was just them being them. Sudden but happy.

Three and a half years ago, he’d had no idea where they were going. While on assignment a fake make out session to keep guards off their trail suddenly turned real and then unexpectedly they were sleeping together every few days. And then she was at his place more than her own and he was clearing out half his dresser for her. She was his date to benefits and he was her excuse to keep every other male out of her way. Before he knew it, he was in love with her and they were a whole lot more than just a stand-by lover. Their friends had been making bets on when they’d get together but he was pretty sure they hadn’t thought it’d last as long as it did. But they had, beating the odds set against them. She was his partner in more than one way. She knew his secret identity, supported it and helped him with his drive for justice. Just as he knew she was meteor infected, terrified that one day she might lose her mind like her mother, and entirely too dependent on coffee. They balanced each other out, with a few trip-ups along the way. He was always coming and going because of his business and the League. But she too had a life to live, fighting crime by written word and digging up the dirt on every criminal that came in contact with her.

Now that he’d filled at least one of her dreams, he wanted to fill the others too. There was nothing stopping them from exploring the world. Sure there were always duties relying on them, but they’d juggled those responsibilities in the past. They had their whole lives to live and they were going to experience it all together.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him, looking up at him rather sleepily.

“Life,” he told her, his hand reaching up to drag her bangs out of her eyes, fingers trailing down her cheek as they went.

“Yeah? And what is it’s secret?” she wondered, her head falling back, revealing her long neck to him as she smiled up at him seductively.

“It shouldn’t be wasted,” he told her, bending low to press a kiss against her neck, tongue and teeth marking her. He trailed up and down and all over, placing small kisses on every inch of skin he could.

She moaned from the back of her throat before drawing herself up and moving to sit in his lap, legs straddling his waist. “Anything else?” she asked cheekily, her eyes washing over his face as if she were taking him all in.

“Well, mine’s meant to be spent with you,” he told her, his hands wrapping around her hips and sliding higher, kneading her sides.

“Oh?” She lifted a brow. “And what will you be doing in this life with me?”

“A lot,” he said, smirking. He tugged the back of her shirt out of jeans and slid his palms up her back, fingers spreading out to feel her curves and the warmth of her skin.

“Yeah?” she breathed, leaning forward, her bangs brushing over his face.

“Yeah,” he said before his mouth met hers. Warm against his own, his eyes fell shut at the feeling of coming home. Her lips parted, granting entrance to his tongue as it searched for hers. His hands slid up her back, lifting her shirt with them. Her hips rotated, brushing against him intimately. His fingers wrapped around the back of her shoulders, holding tight to her as her lower body rubbed against him. She nibbled his lower lip, her nose nuzzling against his, while her hands slid down his shirt, undoing the buttons with a few easy flicks of her fingers.

He felt her warm hand, bare against his chest, pressing directly against his heart and he felt something stir in his stomach. For years he’d honestly thought he’d never find this. This right here. True love; it simply didn’t exist. But he had it; in his lap, in his arms, engrained in the ring around his finger, beating in his heart. And he never wanted to let it –her- go. She broke away from his mouth just a breath from his lips, inhaling deeply. Her eyes opened to slits, staring at him with that same adoring gaze he woke up to each morning and would every morning in the future.

“I love you,” he whispered, squeezing her shoulders and tilting his head to brush his lips against hers in a small, tender kiss. Her supple lips pressed against his further as he leaned back. One of her hands wrapped around the back of his neck, drawing him toward her. She stroked the underside of his eye with her thumb, bringing his gaze back to her.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know,” she told him, her tone strong and serious. He stared at her in mild confusion for a minute. “I just don’t want you to ever think that I love you any less. Everything you feel for me, I feel it too.” She smiled, her face softening. She reached up, taking hold of his forearm and drawing it down. She took his hand, pressing it against her chest. “It still speeds up every time you’re near me,” she admitted, her eyes fluttering as if they were filled with tears. “And,” she swallowed tightly, “And my skin still tingles, everywhere you touch me.” Her hand lifted, wiping away a stray tear. “You know those butterflies?” She chuckled, sniffling. “They’ve never gone away.” She lifted a shoulder, smiling largely.

He felt his heart skip a beat at her confession and spread his fingers against his chest, focusing all of his attention until he could feel the fast thump of her heartbeat beneath his palm. He smiled. Her hand covered his, fingers threading, before she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. “You know, I think we’re going to be very happy together, Mrs. Queen,” he told her, eyes locking with hers.

“Do you, Mr. Queen?” she replied, her mouth quirking. She shifted around in her seat, smirking as his eyes fluttered when she brushed against his hardness. “You know what would make happy right now?” she queried, her voice low and suggestive.

He lifted a brow. “I have an idea.”

“I have more than an idea,” she whispered, bringing her lips down against his once more. Her hands slid down his chest, separating his shirt as they went, tugging it from the waist of his pants. As she broke away from his mouth, her lips trailed kisses down his neck and across the broad, toned expanse of his chest. It was as her lips stilled over his heart than an alarm started ringing around them.

Oliver’s eyes rose abruptly from the intimate form of his wife to the blinking light above the door leading to the cockpit. “Seatbelts,” the red writing screamed at him.

“Mr. Queen, this is the captain, we’re currently undergoing s-me technical dif- -culties. If you and your wife could please—“ There was a loud buzzing sound and suddenly the air masks fell from the compartments above them. The plane began to shake and shudder around them, the lights going in and out. The plain jerked forward and then down and Chloe was thrown from his lap, landing hard on the floor. “Ow,” he heard her mutter beneath the loud crackling of the radio. “May-Day May— May -ay!” he could hear the pilot shouting into his radio.

Oliver scrambled out of his seat, falling to his knees next to Chloe and taking her hand, pulling her against him.

She looked up at him, her hand on her head and a wince covering her face. “What do we do?”

“There are parachutes in the back,” he told her loudly, motioning behind him.

He helped her stand up and they struggled to get down the aisle, holding seats to keep themselves steady. Just as he reached for the handle leading to the door of the emergency closet, the plane jerked wildly and they were thrown back to the floor. The plane seemed to be in a tailspin as Chloe began rolling down and away from him. Her arm stretched out, fingers reaching for him.

“Chloe!” he shouted, pushing himself up onto his knees and crawling toward her.

The plane began rolling in the air, throwing them until they were on what should’ve been the roof. Despite the way it continued to roll and jerk, Oliver kept trying to get closer to her, using his arms and legs in an army-style-crawl to move himself. As the plane twisted sideways, Chloe was thrown against one of the roof compartments, slamming her head against it, her arm twisting funny. He heard her cry out and winced, moving faster against the pressure around him. “Chloe, I need you to come toward me,” he shouted to her.

She rolled over, nodding her head but her eyes were closed and her mouth was set in a grimace. She only used one arm as she pulled herself toward him, eyes opening to stare at him; terror gleaming in her usually vibrant green eyes.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured, his fingers spreading out toward her.

She was just a few inches from his hand now and her fingers finally tangled with his. He smiled reassuringly. “We’re going to be okay.” She nodded, tears sliding out of her eyes. “I promise.”

“I- I know.” She swallowed tightly. “I love you.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “Don’t say that, please.”

She smiled at him; a brilliant Sullivan grin. “We’ll be fine.”

“That’s right,” he said with a sharp nod.

He felt the plane shudder beneath him and saw the roar of the fire in the cockpit as it finally hit the ground. Chloe’s hand was torn from his as she was rocketed one way and he the other. His head slammed into the side of the plane and everything went dark.

* * *

Everything hurt. Oliver opened his eyes a sliver, barely recognizing anything around him. There was so much white. He let them close for a moment, he felt so tired. He opened them again when he thought he heard voices. It was all fuzzy for a moment until he blinked a few times and found himself staring at Clark Kent. A few other faces appeared beside him; Bart, AC, Victor and Lois. They were saying something, but he couldn’t quite make out the words.

“Ollie?” he heard in a gargle.

His gaze turned to Lois who was crying as she looked down at him. She lifted a hand, covering her mouth. “Can you hear me?”

He nodded his head slightly but he was too sluggish to do much more.

“We weren’t sure you were going to…” Bart trailed off.

“Good to have you back man,” AC told him, half-smiling.

He opened his mouth, his throat burning as he tried to speak.

“Shh…” Lois told him, shaking her head.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “How long?” he choked out in a raspy voice he barely recognized as his own.

They all looked at each other.

Lois reached out with a shaky hand, brushing his hair back from his face. “Almost two weeks.”

He nodded slightly, eyes fluttering. He was so tired, he just wanted to go back to sleep. The bed beneath him was uncomfortable though; too small and stiff for his liking. He’d rather be at home in his king sized bed; he could always get a doctor to come and see him there, right? At least at home he’d have Chloe. His brow furrowed and his eyes gazed around the room in confusion.

“Where’s Chloe?” he asked, eyes lifting to stare at them all questioningly.

“You need to rest,” Clark told him, his expression grim.

He shook his head, annoyed. “No, I don’t want to rest, I want- I want my wife,” he said, lifting his head from the pillow and straining to sit up.

“Ollie! Oliver, you can’t just—“ Lois exclaimed. “You’ve been in a plane crash! You just woke up from a two-week coma! Now lay down,” she shouted at him, her hand at his shoulders, pushing him back down.

“Did he say wife?” AC could be heard asking.

“Oh my god… You didn’t! Tell me you guys didn’t…” Lois trailed off, staring at him with a furrowed brow.

Oliver sighed. “We were going to have a big wedding when we got back, we just…”

“Couldn’t wait?”

He nodded. “Where is she?” he asked, looking around. “Why weren’t we put in the same room?”

“Oliver, I really think you should lie down. We should get the doctor to check you over. He’s going to want to—“

“I don’t care what he wants,” he interrupted angrily. “I want to see Chloe. Now.”

“Ollie,” Lois said, her voice quiet and broken.

He turned to look at her, fear clenching in his chest. “Don’t.”

“I’m so, so sorry,” she cried, tears streaming from her eyes.

Her hands were still on his chest and he pushed them away, nearly throwing her away from him. “Where is she?” he demanded harshly.

“Oliver it’s been almost two weeks… We couldn’t wait. We had to…” Clark trailed off, his arms crossing over his chest and his eyes turning away.

“No,” he choked out, his brows drawing together. “She can’t be.” His eyes turned to Victor, then AC, and finally a crying Bart that was trying to swipe away the tears before anybody could see. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” Lois sobbed.

Oliver shook his head in denial, his hands fisting in the sheets beneath him.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry,” she cried, her hands covering her face and her back hunching. Clark reached for her but she leaned into Oliver’s body, her hands gripping the blanket over him as she repeated how sorry she was over and over again.

He wanted to push her away. He didn’t want to be touched. It all had to be some nightmare; it couldn’t be real. He started pulling the wires from his arms and chest, pushing the blanket away and shifting to the side of the bed, trying to get up.

“Oliver, you can’t!”

“Get off me!” he yelled at them as they reached for him. His legs were shaky and gave out beneath him as soon as he tried to stand. The four men circled the bed, reaching for him, helping him up even as he pushed them away.

“You need to lie down,” Clark told him quietly.

“I need my wife!” he shouted in his face. “I need her,” he repeated, his breathing picking up rapidly. He felt dizzy as he leaned against the bed. Lois was sobbing on the sheets still, head on her arms.

“She’s gone,” Victor told him, shaking her head. “She gone, Ollie.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, no, no…”

Bart wiped at his face with the back of his arm. “We’re sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry! I want you to get her back! I need her back!”

“We can’t do that,” Clark told him, his hand gripping Oliver’s shoulder supportively. “We loved her too. We want her back too. But she’s not coming back,” he said, his voice trying to stay strong but wavering near the end.

Oliver swallowed painfully, his eyes falling and his chest heaving. His head was clouded and the dizziness was beginning to make him sway.

“Ollie?” he heard being called worriedly.

He fell back toward the bed, his chest hurting and his stomach twisting painfully. Their faces hovered above him, asking if he was okay in garbled voices.

“Call a doctor,” he heard someone say.

“I need her,” he told them, tears leaking out the sides of his head.

“We know.”

“I need her,” he repeated, his eyes rolling back into his head. “Chloe,” he murmured until the darkness swept him away once more.

* * *

Oliver stood on the ledge of the Daily Planet building, staring out across the expanse of Metropolis. Somewhere out there, bad people were hurting the innocent and good people were in love. Some were married, divorced, dating. Some were expecting children or fulfilling their dreams. But none of those people were his wife. Chloe Anne Queen was buried in the family plot in Star City, an angel statue marking her grave.

He’d been released from the hospital three days before and spent them all mourning in the darkness of their bedroom, in the same rumpled sheets they’d been laying in before they left. He was holding one of her tape recorders in his hand, rewinding it to listen to her voice repeat the many interesting things she found out about some unsuspecting dirt bag politician. So curious and vibrant, the lilt of her voice reached his ears like music. But then the tape would end and he’d have to rewind it to hear her again. The same words, the same inflections each time, because she could say nothing new. He could only hear her from a taped recording now. She’d never laugh or tease or snark at him again.

After three days locked in his room, not sleeping, he finally registered something she was saying and it forced him out of his bed. “Justice will be served,” her voice had repeated an uncountable amount of times throughout those three days. So strong and certain as she recorded her next piece on tape. He took a shower, ate a meal that tasted like sawdust, and dressed in his Green Arrow gear. He was going to patrol. He was going to go on. He was going to live.

He turned back to stare at the golden planet rotating on the top of the building, representing so much. In that moment, he came to one conclusion. Take that one step backwards and let himself fall. Do what the plane crash couldn’t and end his life. Or use his grappling hook and rope to scour the city for the wrong doers and set them straight.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his arms out to the side, and fell backwards into the waiting arms of the city. He could feel the air rushing around him, cool against his skin, ruffling his hair. He let himself relax into the fall, no fear in him at all. God, he missed her. Her smile and her touch and the way she smelled. He missed waking up holding her and going to sleep with the scent of her hair invading his senses. He desperately wanted to see her just once more. His eyes opened, staring up and catching the gold glint of the Dailey Planet rotating far above and then he released the grappling hook, felt as it grasped the top of a building and a moment later, he was swinging through the air, safe in the hold of his rope.

Justice would be served, at least tonight.

* * *

**Forty Years Later**

Lois Kent sat in the front row, her dyed brown hair pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her hands were clasped together in her lap, holding tight to the paper memorial she’d been given when she entered the church. Her husband sat next to her, his silver streaked black hair combed back attractively. His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, still just as strong as ever. Alien or not, Clark aged, he just happened to do it far more gracefully than any human.

She’d been expecting this moment for far too long; forty years too long. But he’d finally gone; peacefully at that.

A throat was cleared at the front podium and Lois lifted her eyes, squinting slightly behind the glasses perched on her nose. For only sixty-nine, her eyesight was cruelly dull. She knew Clark wasn’t squinting and for some reason that made her want to elbow him in the side. Stupid alien genes!

Standing at the front was thirty two year old Justin Queen, Oliver’s eldest adopted son. Standing next to him, her hand on Justin’s forearm comfortingly, was twenty-seven year old Anne Queen, Oliver’s only adopted daughter. And sitting slumped on a chair behind them, his head in his hands, was his youngest adopted son – Matt – just nineteen and already without a father. Justin’s wife and two daughters sat in the pews down the way, all somberly waiting for the funeral to begin.

There was a large blown up photo of Oliver sitting on a stand up front, his usual half grin staring up at them. Like her husband, he’d aged well. Somehow he made grey hair look good. Even the wrinkles at his eyes and mouth made him charming. Those eyes though… They’d dulled over the last forty years and never quite regained the happiness they once had. Feeling the familiar pang in her heart, she turned her attention back to the front, looking up at the grief stricken expression of Justin. She remembered him when he was just a young boy. He was four when Oliver adopted him and took to his new father quickly. Few knew just how much he followed in his father’s steps, picking up the green garb when Oliver was unable to any longer. Crime fighting came easy to him, learning from an early age that justice was key in life.

Anne fought with the use of her type writer, becoming a semi-well known journalist that would’ve made Oliver’s wife proud. Matt was a bit of a drifter. He came into Oliver’s life when he was twelve and quite jaded with the world and how it had treated him. But he loved his dad like no other and he was more than just lost now that Oliver had passed away.

The mic made a high pitched noise as it was adjusted. Justin cleared his throat before saying, “Hello. I’m glad to see you could all make it, I know the funeral was very short notice. Dad would’ve been happy to see so many of you. He’d been traveling the last few years and hadn’t been in contact with a lot of his old friends.”

Lois smiled lightly. Traveling was a light way of putting it.

“Uh some of you may or may not know me. I’m Justin, the eldest of three. I was adopted by dad when I was four and my parents had been,” He cleared his throat, scratching his neck below his ear, “killed in a robbery.” He glanced down for a moment. “He and I were very close. He was… one of my best friends.”

He paused a moment, staring at the picture of his dad to the side of him. “You know, when I was growing up, he used to tell me all of these crazy bedtime stories about these…” He chuckled, smiling reminiscently. “These meteor infected people and the insane adventures this girl had.” He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “He didn’t tell me until I was about fifteen that the stories weren’t made up at all.” He looked out at the crowd, his brows lifted. “They were about Chloe. Someone I’m sure you’re all familiar with. Dad never ran out of stories about his Chloe.” He shook his head, eyes falling. “She… She died before I even came into the picture but sometimes I felt like I knew her. He talked about her so much, you know? He always referred to her as my mom. Always said how proud she’d be of me.” He sighed. “I was jealous of her when I younger. So jealous that he could love her so much and talk about her all the time. I didn’t think he had enough love for me too. But… He did. He always did. He was… the _best_ father I could’ve ever asked for.”

He rubbed at his throat, staring down as his face tightened with sadness. “He taught me how to shoot an arrow instead of riding a bike and he showed me how to read people rather than to wipe my feet on the mat or put all my toys away. He was so bent on making sure no harm would ever come to me I sometimes wondered if I’d ever really get to experience life.” He lifted his eyes, smiling sadly out at them. “It was always, ‘Put your knee pads and elbow pads and helmet on,’ and ‘Don’t touch the stove unless someone’s with you,’ and ‘Never cross the street without an adult.’” He shook his head. “He was so scared that I was going to get hurt that when the smallest scrape happened, he was ready to take me to the hospital…” He smiled. “But you couldn’t stop him when he wanted to do something completely… _insane,_ ” He laughed, lifting his brows for emphasis.

“You know he went hang gliding just last week?” he asked them, nodding. “He climbed Mt. Everest when he was thirty-five. He rock climbed all the time. He bungee jumped and sky dived and swam with sharks. He learned to pilot his own plane, he backpacked over Europe four times, and he had his own custom wingsuit! He was a pro at waterskiing, snowboarding, surfing and dirt biking.” He laughed, throwing his arms up. “My dad was the ultimate death-defyer. But… He wasn’t happy.”

He shook his head sorrowfully. “He had his moments. He loved all of his kids and he never regretted a moment with us. But… Ask anyone close to him and you’ll know that he… He was waiting to die. He had been since he was thirty.” He licked his lips, pausing for a moment in thought. “I don’t know how many of you actually knew Chloe. I’ve seen pictures and I saw a few home videos my dad had. I wish I could’ve met her. She… was the light of dad’s life. You know he never dated, not once in all the time I knew him. He wore his wedding ring every day, never took it off for anything. He was completely and entirely devoted to her. So much so that… when he died, he turned to me and he said…” Justin lifted a hand, rubbing at his chest as if to soothe the pain away. “He said Justin…” His voice cracked. “Never take your dreams for granted. Love when you love and live when you live. I lost my other half when I was young but I filled her dreams for her. I lived for her.” He lifted his head, a tear slipping down his cheek. “And he did.”

He fiddled around in his pocket, pulling out a piece of wrinkled paper and showing it to the crowd. “This is…” He sniffled, “a list. It was a list of dreams Chloe had that dad fulfilled.” He cleared his throat, smoothing the paper out with his hand. “Feel the air beneath me as I hang glide. He crossed that out. The rocks beneath my fingers as I climb a mountain. He did that too, many times. Swim in the bluest ocean – he lived on the beach next to it. See the most beautiful cities – write about them, live in them, breathe their air.” He nodded, smiling to himself. “Backpack all over Europe – sleeping in hostels or tents beneath the stars. Experience life to the fullest, without all the bad stuff mixed in.” He paused, biting his lip for a moment. “Get married. Have children. Watch them grow, learn, and live. And last, but not least…” He lifted his eyes to stare out at them all. “Return to Chloe.”

Justin lifted a pen from his coat pocket and used it to cross off the last line. He then folded it up, turned and walked toward the closed casket, placing it on top. “Say hi to mom for me.” He knocked his fist against it as if in goodbye and then moved to sit in a seat next to his brother who was silently crying.

“Hi,” a soft, feminine voice greeted the room. “I’m Anne Queen, his only daughter. I work as a reporter for the Daily Planet, the newspaper my father owned.” She was a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair and bright brown eyes. She was tall and slender, a warm face and a ready smile for anybody she met. “My dad adopted me when I was two, so I didn’t really know any other father but him.” She shifted her weight to the other side, nervously nibbling her lip. “When I was a little girl, I used to hate brushing my hair, so every few days dad would have to sit me down and try and comb out all the tangles. I used to scream for _hours_!” she admitted, chuckling lightly. “But he’d just tell me…” She sniffled, lifting a hand to wipe away her tears. “It’s your own fault, Anna Banana, you’ve got to start brushing your hair every day. And I’d cry and tell him I didn’t want to. It got so bad that when I was seven I cut it all off. I regretted it an hour later and tried to tape it all back on. I begged him to buy me a wig but he absolutely refused. He also had a hard time not laughing at my hack job!” she admitted, holding a hand over her mouth as she chuckled.

She let out a shuddering breath, biting down on her lip. “And Justin was right when he said he was the most protective man you could ever know. He literally chased my first date off with military style interrogating. He actually checked the record of every person we ever talked to, I swear!” She chuckled sadly. “He taught me karate when I was eight and got me into self defense classes before I was even twelve. He refused to let me take my training wheels off my bike so I had to do it myself with a screwdriver when I was eleven. He would’ve super glued a helmet to my head if he could, just for general everyday use.” She shrugged, rubbing the underside of her nose with her hand. “But… But it was sweet in an overdramatic, loving dad sort of way.” She smiled softly. “I didn’t understand for the longest time why he could do all this cool stuff and I couldn’t ride my bike outside of the driveway. But then I realized he wasn’t trying to stop us from having fun, he was just… He was trying to hold onto us as long as he could.”

She swallowed tightly, lifting a hand to hold onto her throat as if it hurt. “His parents died in a plane crash when he was only nine and he almost died the same way when he was thirty. He lost his wife in that crash and though I never knew her, I know he loved her with all of himself. Did until his dying day. He lived his life on the edge when it came to everything but his family. He kept us all close and he never once let us doubt that he loved us.”

She wiped her cheeks, trying to smile at the crowd but failing. “He used to read me the Robin Hood series as bedtime stories. He gave them to me a few weeks ago.” Her hand fell to her stomach, eyes glancing at her fiancé. “And when I was five, the only thing I’d eat was peanut butter sandwiches. He was allergic to peanuts though so he always wore these silly gloves that he let me draw on and make “pretty” for him.” She gave a watery smile. “When he was dying, I told him I was going to miss him,” she confided, her eyes turning off as if she were retelling herself. “He told me not to. That he’d always be watching out for me. That whatever happened, he was my dad and he’d never really leave me.” Her voice wavered and she closed her eyes, tears spilling forward.

Justin rose and walked to her, wrapping his arms around her as she cried. She shook her head against his shoulder. “I want to say he’s too young and h-he shouldn’t have gone. But he wasn’t young,” she said with a laugh. “His heart was and he acted like he was but…” She sniffled, burying her face in her brother’s shoulder.

Justin rubbed her back, walking her to sit in the chair reserved for her beside her youngest brother.

There was silence for a moment, everybody simply sitting in thought.

Matt stood up from his chair, looking uncomfortable in his tailored suit. He ambled up to the mic and stared broodingly out at the people before him. He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m Matt; I’m Ollie’s youngest son.” He cleared his throat. “I met him when I was twelve. I was pick-pocketing on the street and he… He offered me a place to stay.” He shrugged. “Next thing I knew, I was adopted.” He shifted his weight around on his feet. “I don’t have the stories from when I was a little kid to share. There weren’t peanut butter sandwiches or training wheels on my bike. My dad taught me how to shoot the perfect arrow though. And he never judged me for who I was. He… He loved me. Never let me think for a minute he didn’t consider me his son.” He shook his head, his jaw clenching. “Ollie was the best man I’d ever known in my life. He was… This crazy guy that sky dived and rode a motorcycle and just… just lived every day.” He half-smiled. “And he did love Chloe. He told me about her all the time. That she was curious and strong and she kicked ass when she needed to. She was his hero, I think. Just like he was mine. They were special. Like these two people in a world of really unspecial people. They stood out and they stood up and I’ll never… I’ll never forget what he did for me or what he’s done for so many others.” He stared at them, his expression drawn but serious. “My dad was the greatest man alive and nobody can ever tell me different.” With that, he turned and walked to the casket, placing a small arrow pendent on it. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Lois wiped a tear away, barely registering as a minister came forward and told them all that they would take a moment out now to spend in silent memory. She’d just spent the entire time in her memory. Remembering days past, spent at the Queen Manor or out at the Kent farm with Ollie and his children visiting. He’d truly lived a good life, even if it was bare of his most treasured love. He wore her wedding ring on a chain around his neck, never took his own off, and was married if anybody asked. The League boys teased him about his ongoing celibacy but he never commented on the fact. He wasn’t low on offers either. He’d been proposed to more times than she could count and various beautiful women had propositioned him for a night. Just weeks prior, an heiress tried to turn his head and failed miserably. Lois learned over the year just how devoted he was to Chloe. The two had been quite the pair while they were together; joined at the hip and fighting for justice all over.

Oliver was never quite the same after she died. It was weeks before he spoke again. He was reserved and spent most of his time in their apartment or out patrolling. He had a limp when he left the hospital that never fully healed through the years. He used a cane while playing Oliver Queen during the day, but shucked it at night. His leg worked well enough and it never hindered him in his crime fighting. But it helped to separate the identities for any suspecting outsiders.

The funeral came to a close, with a procession of people walking up the aisle and passing the casket, paying their last dues and placing flowers on top of it. He’d be buried in the family plot, next to his wife, where he would want to be. As Lois stopped next to the casket, she dropped a white tulip next to his list. It was Chloe’s favorite and Oliver always had a bouquet put on his kitchen table to greet him each morning. She pressed her hand down against the pale green casket top. “Hug her for me, Ollie,” she told him.

She had no doubts he would. He was probably up there, somewhere, holding her tight and vowing never to let her go. He’d done his duty and lived for her and now he earned the right for all eternity by her side. She hoped they were happy. Clark squeezed her hand and they walked down the steps, pausing to hug their nephews and niece, saying it was a nice service before they left to meet their three sons at the exit. Lois had to get home and finish setting up the get-together at the farm. Everybody was coming over for the party Oliver made her promise she’d throw when he was gone.

She surveyed the large crowd that had come to the funeral and sighed. “We’re going to need lots of beer,” she told Clark, nodding.

He grinned down at her, shaking his head slightly. “Our boys have that covered.”

As they walked toward the car, Lois’ eyes drifted out toward the familiar angel statue sitting regally in the center of the Queen plots. The sun shone down on it beautifully and she felt a warmth fill her chest. They were together. She just knew it.


	43. Undeniable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinah Lance wants Oliver Queen, but he’s very much taken.

Oliver Queen was uncomfortable. While Dinah Lance was an accomplished League member, she was also an incessant flirt. In other circumstance, it might’ve been flattering and even worth exploring. However, he wasn’t sure how to let the Black Canary know that he wasn’t interested. It was already making work complicated. The others had noticed her affection and were wondering why he was holding back. Seeing as he was currently involved with another Justice League member, secretly of course, he couldn’t explain it to them.

“Any new missions today, Boss?” she asked, lifting a manicured brow. “I’m always up for some surveillance if you’re interested in joining me.” Her voice took on a teasing, purposely seductive lilt and he simply looked at her stoically.

“You can tail Lex if you’re bored,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t think Bart’s busy.”

He swore she was almost pouting.

AC was staring at him like he was an idiot, but he really didn’t want to get into that conversation again.

“That mean you’re busy, Boss?” she asked, chewing her lip and staring up at him through her long lashes.

Oliver sighed. “Very.” He turned around, trying not to frown at how close she was standing.

“Doing what?” she asked, voice low.

“Ollie?” a voice called out and he turned to see Chloe standing with a few folders in her hands. He hid his relief well; acting was a skill he’d long past mastered. “We’re going to be late. Do you have the disk?”

“Yeah,” he said, before glancing at Dinah and nodding goodbye.

“I didn’t hear about a meeting.”

Oliver looked back at her. “It wasn’t public knowledge. You’re a valuable member, but some things just aren’t part of your job description.”

She frowned, looking perturbed as she put her hands on her hips.

She said nothing more as the two left, instead sighing before she took a seat on the couch, crossing her legs and staring glumly out the window. Somehow being in the Justice League wasn’t as action packed as she hoped.

Bart sped over, taking a seat next to her and leaning in close. “Hey _mamacita_ ,” he greeted, grinning.

Dinah rolled her eyes. “I’m busy.”

He laughed, reaching out and stroking her cheek with a curled forefinger. “Doing what? Besides failing at getting Ollie’s attention, that is.”

She glared at him.

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Just saying… Maybe your sights are set a little high.” He winked at her charmingly.

But a second later, he left, going back to whatever he’d been up to before deciding to annoy her. She blew out a heavy breath and wondered over whether Bart could be right.

It was a few hours before Oliver returned to his apartment and Dinah was the only one left waiting. She was disappointed to see his grin disappear upon seeing her. Her feelings for Oliver had heightened over the last year they’d been working together and she was honestly surprised that his feelings didn’t seem to be following her own. They worked for the same things; justice on all accounts. They hadn’t had the greatest of starts, but she figured he was past that. He asked her to be a part of his League after all. But he still treated her just like another one of the team and he adamantly avoided her hints at wanting more. She assumed for awhile that it might be just because he needed to keep his leader mask on in front of the rest of the group, but he hadn’t made any indication to wanting more outside of the League either.

“Long meeting,” she said, lifting a hand to run it through her close cropped blonde hair. There was no need for a wig when she was just hanging around the apartment. The windows were tinted as it was; there was no chance of somebody spotting her.

“It was important,” he said, shrugging slightly as he dropped his keys on the counter nearest him. “What are you still doing here? Would’ve thought you’d head home by now.” He looked uncomfortable and he was quick to stay out of her general vicinity as he made his way to the living room.

“I wanted to talk to you. I’m not usually one for avoiding the issue and this was beginning to weigh on me.” She cocked her hip to one side, lifting a brow at him as he sat down in an arm chair and nodded for her to continue. “You going to stay in leader mode or can you loosen up for this?”

He half smiled, amused by her candor. “What do you need, Dinah?”

Good question. She walked around the couch, a sway to her hips. “It’s more of what I want.”

He looked up at her, his usually warm brown eyes looking less friendly in that moment. He sighed. “We work together. And I don’t mix work with pleasure.”

Her mouth quirked with a smirk. “It could be _really_ pleasurable though.”

His eyes fell and he shook his head. “You’re a great person, Dinah, and an important part of my team. But you and me… It’s just not going to happen.”

She frowned. “Why?” she asked seriously, moving to sit down on the couch, one of her legs bent beneath her. “Is it Lois?” she asked, her brow lifting and her mouth thinning.

He shook his head. “Lois and I have been over for a long time and that’s not going to change. But…” He leaned back in his seat. “I’m seeing someone. And I care about her. A lot.”

Her brows lifted with slight surprise. “Does she know about the green leather?” His secret, like the rest of them, was what usually kept him from getting serious with anyone. It would take a lot for him to share and she felt that her knowledge of it was probably a tick in the pro’s list for them becoming more.

He nodded. “She knows everything and she supports me.”

Dinah nodded jerkily, standing from the couch. “Will you be introducing her to the League any time then, Boss? Secrets can burn you when left too long in the dark.” It felt catty, almost as if she was dangling his secret in front of her. Defense mechanism she supposed.

He stared up at her, his expression unreadable. “Our relationship is important to me. We’ve kept it under-wraps for safety reasons. I’d appreciate your silence on the matter.”

“Back to being the same old serious Oliver,” she teased, her mouth curving with a smirk.

He ran a hand through his hair easily and she watched the movement with a bit of remorse. He was a very handsome man and she’d hoped that something could come of this.

“I hope this won’t cause problems for you in the League,” he said honestly.

“Justice and my love life are very separate.” She shrugged. “I still say we would’ve been great though.”

He simply half-smiled, not looking entirely convinced.

With a subdued goodbye, she left his apartment and took to the skies. She’d return to her quiet apartment, feeling rather empty. It was worth a try, in any case. Was it love? She didn’t know. She doubted it. She wasn’t able to get close enough to him to really learn who Oliver Queen was deep down. She knew the reserved and stoic personality he showed as leader to a group of heroes. She didn’t know what his honest, down to the gut laugh sounded like. Or what his full fledged grin might look like. She wanted to though and as morning dawned, she decided it was worth digging into a little more. She’d have to see if this girlfriend of his was worth his time or even real, seeing as he could just be playing the safe Oliver Queen she knew and not letting himself get close to her.

She spent four weeks tailing him. He did a lot of boring work during his day life; meetings and phone calls and paper work stacked to the ceiling. A few of those calls though, they weren’t business related at all. She could tell by his smile as he spoke into the phone. She caught a few stray sentences here or there but it was hard to tail a guy who knew all the tricks of the trade. “What are you wearing?” she’d heard once and then his laugh. “No, don’t change. I’ll be there soon. I’ll take it off for you.”

There were the less sensual calls as well, but still intimate in a way that she was rather jealous of. “Of course I bought more coffee, check the cupboard… No the other one.” He shook his head, eyes turning upward as he grinned. “Would I leave you coffee less?” He laughed. “One time. And I made up for it, didn’t I?”

It wasn’t until the second week that she actually saw them together. It took awhile for her to figure it out, much to her chagrin. But once she knew, it became that much more obvious. They were all in a League meeting, the group standing in wait for their directions. Oliver came out from his office, nodding at everybody in greeting. As he passed her, his fingers lingered over her wrist, stroking it lightly, and her fingers spread out as his hand trailed lower, forefinger grazing her palm. But then he was speaking to the League as if nothing had happened, his small, intimate touch going unnoticed by all but Dinah, who did her best not to glare at the young woman standing seriously, waiting for her mission to be given.

She should have seen it earlier; they spent a lot of time together as it was. She was who he went to when he needed help with most things. They had a comfortable banter between them that most excused as friendship while she noticed more recently was wrought with sexual chemistry. And he touched her a whole lot more than he did anybody else. Oliver wasn’t much of a physical guy with the rest of the League, but with her, he was always putting his hand at the small of her back or brushing her hair behind her ear. And the smile he gave her was different from the rest; more warm and real. She made him laugh too; that down to the gut laugh that Dinah wished she could get out of him.

The most damning evidence was when they left the meeting, however. Everybody had plans, separating to go wherever they needed to be. Oliver didn’t flinch as he mentioned that he had a pressing matter to get to and his secret lover gave a simple excuse and then left, with nobody being the wiser. But as Dinah walked down the street, hidden away in a red wig and a trench coat, she could see the way the couple drifted toward each other. It started out small in public. His hand reached out, falling to the small of her back and sliding to her far hip as they walked. And her hand rose, sitting on his side for a moment before drifting along his back, rubbing his shoulder as they talked and then finally sitting comfortably on his far side, her thumb hooked in his jacket pocket. He leaned down to speak to her, as if trying to avoid the rest of the world. He whispered against her ear, pressed his face against her hair, and his smile inched up his mouth at her temple, while he stared down softly at her before kissing the top of her head. They stopped for dinner where they played footsies beneath the table and exchanged banter.

He lifted his wine glass, taking a drink his eyes set heatedly on his date. “What do you have planned for tonight?”

She smiled at him, her head tilting to one side. “I have very important plans.”

He smiled slightly. “Really?”

She nodded, her mouth quirking on one side. “Can’t be changed.” She lifted a shoulder. “This guy I’m seeing is hard-pressed for time, so what little we do have has to be enjoyed as much as possible.”

He nodded. “Sounds like a hassle. You should dump him.”

She laughed richly and Dinah was saddened to see that her laugh made Oliver’s eyes warmer. “He makes up for it,” she assured.

A smirk tugged at his mouth. “So what do you do during this make up time you two have?”

His date pursed her lips, lifting a brow. “A little personal, don’t you think?”

He grinned, shrugging slightly. “You tell me.”

She leaned forward and Dinah could see her foot sliding up Oliver’s leg slowly, her heel slipping off to lay forgotten on the floor. Her foot maneuvered into his lap with ease, stroking his inner thigh a few times before rubbing at the evidence of his arousal. “We usually get dinner at this really nice restaurant he took me to on our first date,” she told him, her voice low. His stoic resolve was slipping as he slumped slightly in his seat, leaning into her pleasurable motions.

“And then?” His tone was a little breathy.

She smiled. “Sometimes we see a movie, take a walk in the park, and just get reacquainted after such a long time apart.” She leaned back in her seat, one of her hands raising, fingers cupping her chin. “And when we’re done with pretending like we haven’t wanted to just head to the bedroom since seeing each other again, we finally do.”

“Sounds like a long process,” he murmured, his eyes half-lidded.

“On occasion, we’ve gone straight from dinner to home,” she admitted in a whisper as if it were private knowledge.

“What’s the plan tonight?” he asked huskily.

Her eyes fell as she lifted her wine glass to her lips. “You tell me.”

Oliver’s hand rose. “Check.”

She smirked.

Dinah frowned.

As they walked the short distance back to his apartment, she watched their little touches become more affectionate. In the dark emptiness of the street, he didn’t hesitate to kiss her. And there was obvious heat in the slant of his lips against hers. His lover’s hands gripped the front of his coat while his slid down her back, wrapping tight around her hips and drawing her up toward him. He cradled her in his arms, lifting her up off the ground and laughing against her shoulders as her arms wrapped around his neck and he carried her the last little bit to Queen Tower. They were lighthearted together; their laughter, their conversation, their hands that seemed to wander everywhere. Even from afar, Dinah could see the heat between them; the comfort they found in each other.

She had no idea how long they’d been together but they were pretty good at keeping it from everybody else. Not even the tabloids had gotten hold of them and torn them to shreds yet and there was plenty to work with. As far as she could tell none of the League knew; Oliver was good at keeping secrets and so was his girlfriend. Everything looked like a legitimate work partnership between two intelligent and hard working heroes. And it wasn’t just to blow off steam either, as much as she wished it was. Oliver was happier with her, more at ease. The stoic personality melted away when he was with her. His smile widened, his laughed rumbled, his eyes warmed. He was Ollie to her, not _the_ Oliver Queen or Green Arrow. And she was just plain his.

For two weeks, she watched with a critical eye as they talked shop, talked dirty, played hero, played lovers, and they fit. Her affection for Oliver was no where near that of the girl who spent each night in his arms, in his heart. He wouldn’t go out of his way to get her favorite brand of coffee and stock it in the cupboards as if it were the cure to cancer; not like he did for his blonde beauty. While Dinah was a valued Justice League member, his girlfriend was someone he truly valued. And she could see that as much as he might care about saving the world and creating a team of superior people to help him do it, he wouldn’t sacrifice all of himself for it. He kept his beauty undercover because he didn’t want to lose her; didn’t want her to be used against him should anything happen. And he was right to. She had enough enemies as it was; having her linked to the Green Arrow would only put her a few notches higher on the need-to-kill list.

She was better than Lois, Dinah would give her that. Her affection for Oliver stopped her from thinking much more of her than that though. Even though she knew there was no competition, she still felt as though she had to hold strong in face of her defeat. It was over before it really began. He wasn’t even considering her, not really. He had his other half and Dinah hadn’t been a passing thought in the romantic scheme of things. It should’ve hurt, but witnessing their relationship had made it all a little numb.

Another meeting had her face to face with them again, watching the way everybody went on, oblivious to the two and their separation from the League.

“So, Chloelicious, you want to join me us for some mow tonight?” Bart called out to her as he pulled his backpack on, readying to leave Queen Tower.

“As tempting as that sounds, I already have plans,” she told him, smiling.

“Suit yourself, beautiful,” he told her, grinning. He was gone in a flash, no hard feelings over the rejection.

“I’ve gotta go too. I have a date,” AC announced, looking quite smug. “Always nice to see ya, Chlo,” he said, nodding at her. “I’ll drop those files off with you tomorrow, Ollie.” He turned to Dinah and smiled at her in a friendly manner before he was on his way out, whistling something under his breath.

Victor and Clark were deep in discussion on the other side of the room and so they didn’t see how Oliver had drifted over to Chloe. “Plans?”

“That’s right,” she said quietly, her eyes turning to look at him cheekily. “I’m playing tag and you’re it. Catch me if you can.” Her hands drifted over his stomach in an intimate touch before she was hefting her book bag onto her shoulder and waving toward the other two boys. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“Night Chloe,” Clark called out.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about a hard drive problem,” Victor told her.

She pointed at him. “Come by Tuesday and I’m all yours.”

He winked. “Don’t tempt me now,” he teased.

She laughed as she waved back to them and climbed onto the elevator.

“We’re going to go get something to eat. You coming, Oliver? Dinah?” Clark asked turning to them.

Dinah nodded. “You go ahead. I’ll meet you there.”

“Great. Diner on the corner, you know the one?”

“I’ll be there soon.”

The two left and Dinah found herself left with just Oliver once more.

He glanced over at her, a brow lifting. “Something you wanted to talk about?”

Her hands found her hips and she walked over slowly, her eyes scanning him speculatively. He seemed oblivious to her looks, packing up a few papers, eyes falling to the clock every few seconds. He just couldn’t wait to get to _her_.

“The reporter, huh?” she said bluntly.

His hands stilled and he stared downward for a moment before finally lifting his head and turning serious eyes on her. “I love her,” he said simply.

“I know,” she said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, frowning.

“No. You’re not,” she said, shaking her head with a rather stiff laugh. “But I understand.”

He simply nodded before crossing his arms over his chest, as if waiting for her to start interrogating him. She hadn’t planned to, but there were questions she wanted answers to.

“How long?”

“Since before I even met you,” he admitted.

Her mind brought her back to that night, the way he showed up to save the day and the reporter in distress. She’d thought he was coming at her for the disk, but as she thought back now, she realized he was running to Chloe after she’d been floored. So quick to make sure she was okay, everything else paled in comparison. Still, she was surprised they’d been able to keep it quiet for so long. Over a year now; long time for a guy like him.

“And nobody knows?” she asked, lifting a brow.

He sighed. “ Clark knows.” He shrugged slightly. “An unfortunate interruption that I’m sure he’d rather forget.”

She would’ve found it amusing had it been somebody else. “Lois?”

He shook his head, clearing his throat. “A complication, I know. We should tell her, but…” His jaw tightened. “She’s not the greatest secret keeper and I honestly don’t want our relationship to end because I picked the wrong cousin to begin with.”

Dinah nodded, licking her lips. “So she’s it?”

He stared at her; that stoic reserve slipping as his mouth turned up at the sides with a real Ollie smile. “She’s everything.”

Dinah hid her wince.

“How’d you find out?” he wondered, his brow furrowed.

“For a man of your lifestyle, you should learn to keep your eyes on your surroundings more. You were easier to tail than I expected,” she admitted with no remorse. “And those hands of yours speak more than you think.”

He looked rather amused. “Thanks for the tip; I’ll try to keep them to myself from now on.”

She smirked. “Somehow I doubt it.”

His mouth quirked with a grin but it was short-lived as he turned to look at the clock. “It’s getting late…”

“And you have a game of tag to get to,” she finished, nodding.

His brows rose with slight surprise but he hid it quickly.

“I’m happy for you,” she told him as she picked up her jacket and slid it on. “It may not seem like it now, but I am. I guess you could say it’s a comforting thought that even people like us can have some normality.” She shrugged, flipping her dark wig hair out from beneath the collar of her coat. “It’s rare. You should hold onto it while you can.”

He nodded. “I will.”

She stuck her hands in her pockets, her hip cocking to one side. “You know if she hadn’t been good enough for you, I was going to make you see the error of your ways,” she informed him, candidly.

He lifted a brow. “And what’s the verdict, Miss Lance?”

She half-smiled. “It was undeniable, I’m afraid.” She nodded. “You’re great together.”

His face softened as if he knew how hard it must’ve been for her to admit such a thing. “Thank you.”

“Don’t expect me to be so soft in future, Queen.” She grinned a rather seductive smile that came naturally to her. “We all pull our own weight around here and girlfriend or not, you two better keep it together.”

He laughed lightly, nodding agreeably.

She turned serious for a moment. “She’ll always be your weakness. Remember that.”

He tipped his head in acknowledgement and Dinah felt as though she said all that needed to be said. She walked to the elevator with a fluid sway to her hips. She stopped when she heard his voice call after her.

“She’s my strength, too.” His dark eyes bore into hers and she knew he wasn’t just spitting out love junk. Chloe Sullivan could make or break him and for the time being, she was making him.

Looking back to him, she lifted her chin. “I know.” With that, she left, knowing that whatever could’ve been between her and Oliver never would be. He was better off with the woman that kept him level, she knew that now. She’d expected to find someone unworthy and likely unable to handle the lifestyle that she and the rest of the League had to deal with. Instead she found the only girl out there who could really understand secrets and the meaning behind keeping them. She found that there could be love in a world where the good had to hide behind masks while the bad stood openly with a wad of cash to keep them on top of the world. Her heart wasn’t broken, but it was chipped. Still, there was an upside. She wasn’t chasing a wild dream. Oliver wasn’t hers and probably never would be, but the opportunity was out there, she just had to find her “Chloe”. As she walked down the street toward the diner, she briefly wondered what Bart was doing. He was goofy and rather cheesy in an entirely too adorable way. He wasn’t at all her type. But then, maybe her type wasn’t who she should be looking for.

Sighing, she opened the door to the diner she often met the Justice League members in for a late dinner. Outside, she noticed Oliver walking down the street, his cell phone out and a familiar smile on his face. At least two of them were happy.

“Hey _mamacita_ , over here,” she heard Bart’s voice call out.

Rolling her eyes, she turned and walked toward the table, smirking inwardly at the way the three men at the table all watched her with interested eyes. She might not have Oliver, but she still had pick of the litter, and what a delicious group there was.


	44. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So things weren’t going quite as expected.

Clark tapped his foot impatiently, checking his watch for the nth time. Where were they? He knew the answer but he’d rather not think too much on it. He glanced at Victor who was sighing as he sat at the computer, his finger tapping his temple. Bart was eating his fourth sandwich, leaning against a counter, looking bored. AC was feeding the fish in the tank, purposely trying to look busy as Bruce Wayne sat in a chair, annoyed with the wait. They’d called this meeting specifically because they wanted to talk to Bruce about joining the League officially. He was Batman after all, and fought for the same kind of justice in his Gotham that they did world wide. Now if only Oliver could hurry it up already.

They’d been waiting forty-five minutes and Clark had a feeling that if it reached an hour, Bruce was just going to leave. He’d only shown up out of courtesy to his old Excelsior friend. He’d known about the League for awhile but wasn’t interested in joining. Oliver was sure that if he met the entire team and they could sit down and explain it all to him, he’d change his view. Dinah was sitting in a chair across from Bruce, her legs crossed, one bouncing impatiently as her eyes took in the handsome man adjacent to her.

“I’m beginning to think we might have to send out a search crew,” Bruce commented, non-plussed. “Queen is hardly ever late, can any of you explain?”

“Uh, well…” Bart shifted around. “He’s a busy man.”

“He has been heavily researching something lately,” Victor put in, nodding. “He might’ve just gotten caught up.”

“Yeah, he’ll probably show up any second now, realizing he lost track of time. You know how it is,” AC told him, crossing his arms and taking his eyes off the many tropical fish swimming around in the heavily equipped tank. “You think if I released them Oliver would be annoyed?” he wondered.

Victor rolled his eyes. “Leave the fish alone, Nemo.”

AC made a face at him.

Bruce checked his expensive silver watch once more. “You don’t think he could be in trouble?” He looked around at them, stoic expression still sitting on his face. “In my experience, Oliver is rarely late.”

“He’s been having time issues lately,” Clark said, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“Yeah,” Dinah threw in, lifting a brow. “Just can’t seem to pull himself out of a certain—“

“ Mission,” Clark interrupted, voice louder than needed.

Dinah threw him an amused smirk.

Bruce glanced between the two, suspicious. He opened his mouth to ask something but the door flew open, cutting him off.

Oliver and Chloe hurried in, both looking a little less put together than expected. Chloe’s hair was a mess and half of her shirt was sticking out of her skirt. Oliver’s shirt buttons were out of whack and the hickey’s on his neck weren’t as covered as he probably thought they were. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to flatten it. “Sorry,” he said to Bruce, glancing around at the group quickly. “Uh, something came up.”

The five League members each tried to hide their snickers.

Oliver and Chloe glared at them.

Clearing his throat, Oliver turned back to Bruce, who had stood up from his chair. “Let’s get down to business.”

“Looks you already have,” he commented, lifting an amused brow.

Oliver chuckled, lifting his shoulder in a shrug. “Bruce,” he greeted, before lifting his arm back and drawing Chloe up closer. “Have I introduced you to my, uh… Watchtower?” he stumbled.

Chloe rolled her eyes, holding a hand out for Bruce to shake. “I also go by Chloe.”

“And occasionally, when Oliver doesn’t think we’re listening, she goes by, ‘petal’,” Bart informed him.

“Impulse!” Oliver and Chloe shouted.

“She calls him, ‘hunk’,” he added, rocking on his heels with a knowing expression.

“You’ve lost all kitchen privileges,” Oliver told him, frowning.

“Ahh man, come on!” Bart whined, looking like his world had just fallen apart.

“Hunk?” Clark asked with a chuckle.

“Shut up,” Chloe told him, glaring.

He lifted his hands in surrender. The group laughed heartily.

“Okay, okay, if you’re done,” Oliver said, lifting a brow.

Bruce half-smiled. “So this is the infamous Watchtower?”

Chloe smiled. “The one and only.”

“I’ve heard great things.”

“She is sleeping with the boss,” Bart commented cheekily.

“Bart!” Chloe said, looking around Bruce’s shoulder. “Hugging privileges are off too.”

“What?” He stuck his lips out in a pout. “Whatever do I have to live for now?” he said dramatically.

Oliver lifted a hand, covering his face. “This is not how I envisioned this meeting going. I expected the League to impress you.” He laughed humorlessly.

Bruce clapped his shoulder, shaking his head. “You still have time. So far, I’m amused. It’s rare.” He nodded. “You’ve got my attention.”

Oliver lifted a brow, a smile tugging up his mouth. He decided then and there that Bruce Wayne wasn’t leaving his office until Batman was a member of his team. He glanced at Chloe to his right who seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. She motioned for Bruce to sit back down. “Victor, will you bring up the League database please?” She looked over to Bruce with a knowing grin. “You’re gonna love this.”

Oliver stepped up behind her as the screen fell from the roof, his hands wrapping around her shoulders. This was going to work. Her hand squeezing his only confirmed his beliefs.

The Justice League logo flashed onto the screen brilliantly and he grinned with pride.


	45. Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You should be more careful,” Lex told her. “You never know who’s watching.”

There was always something to be found when the subject was Chloe Sullivan; Lex had learned that early on. She was always knee-deep in someone else’s business and unfortunately it was usually his. Admittedly, at least to himself, his many business excursions weren’t always for what some might classify as the “greater good” but he saw the potential behind them and it was truth he was after, not justice.

He learned quickly to be careful around her. She was always on guard, always had her eyes searching for onlookers. A camera helped, with a special scope so he could see everything clearly. Chloe was a creature of habit; the top of the Daily Planet being her favorite spot to rendezvous with potential sources. He was surprised to see who swung in on a grappling hook, though. Green Arrow, himself, settling down on the roof and walking toward the intrepid reporter as if they knew each other well. He couldn’t hear them and reading lips wasn’t one of his many talents. But he didn’t need words to see where this was going.

The hero in leather circled her as she stood, arms crossed, hip cocked, a look of defiant amusement on her face. The Green Arrow seemed at ease with her, as if he’d done this same routine a million times before. And then his hand was on her shoulder and turning her around swiftly and her hands were raising, arms wrapping around his neck. He didn’t shed his glasses or throw back his hood, much to Lex’s chagrin. But he did lean down and kiss her, full on and passionate. They stumbled back toward a brick wall and Chloe was lifted up, legs wrapping around her secret beau. Her arms spread out across the wall behind her and the angle of the camera caught the deft way Green Arrow’s hands separated her blouse, revealing her creamy torso. Her skirt was pushed up to her hips and he slid between the part of her thighs, pressing against her intimately. Chloe’s face wasn’t hidden and so the pleasured expressions that crossed her face – fluttering eyes, smirk, flushed cheeks – were all caught on camera.

While he wasn’t usually voyeuristic, he stayed watching for the simple reason that the man’s face could be revealed. Green Arrow was a long time rival of his and he already had too many, so one less would benefit him greatly. The leather chair he occupied was quite comfortable as he sat in the dim office that was too far for anybody to notice his presence. Which was why Chloe Sullivan didn’t flinch as the camera lens caught each of her movements as she leaned in to the Green Arrow’s browsing hands. A lot more of her was revealed than Lex ever truly expected to see, not that he was complaining. While she was a pain in his ass on a regular basis, she was also beautiful and intelligent.

Even if he never got the identity of Green Arrow, he had a solid lead and blackmail material to last him a lifetime. Chloe Sullivan wouldn’t be digging up dirt on him anymore; he’d make sure of that.

He watched to the finish, only mildly irritated when no ID was made on the infamous emerald archer. After an intimate farewell, he was off, ropes and grappling hooks keeping him safely out of reach. Picking up his cell phone, Lex dropped the camera down on the desk behind him. He dialed a familiar number and smirked as the other line picked up.

“The Daily Planet, wait for Chloe Sullivan, bring her to me,” he said simply before hanging up. Standing up from his chair, he walked out of the room and left the building entirely. He had a chopper waiting to take him back to Smallville whenever he felt like and preferred the setting of his home when interrogating the likes of the sneaky and curious reporter that would be joining him later. He had a feeling it was going to be a moment to remember.

Three hours later, Lex Luthor was sitting in his private office, holding a tumbler of whisky in one hand and waiting for his guest oh honor to arrive. When he heard a ruckus down the hall, he knew he’d be seeing her soon. The double doors were thrown open and two large men dragged the blindfolded blonde in, her arms tied behind her back but her legs doing a pretty good job of bruising their knees as they kicked erratically.

He turned in his chair, standing up and crossing the room at a leisurely pace. He motioned for them to leave, knowing they’d be standing right outside the doors should he need them. After tugging her blindfold off, he was amused to see her defiant and surly expression. He walked around her, undoing her bound hands before he motioned for her to sit down near his desk.

She glared at him, rubbing her wrists as she crossed the room. “Always a dramatic invitation, Lex. You couldn’t just call and ask me to meet you for coffee?” she asked, lifting a brow.

He shook his head slightly, his lips curling. “You and I both know you wouldn’t show up.” He lifted his glass in askance of whether she was thirsty and she shook her head, expression suspicious. “Not unless your curiosity got the best of you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want?”

He was silent for a moment, sitting down in his chair and staring at her speculatively. “You just know everybody’s secret, don’t you?” He shook his head, as if the idea was simply unfathomable. He didn’t trust many and so his secrets were kept close. She always found them out though and being the reporter she was she didn’t hesitate to print them. But now there were at least two heroes that she cared about enough not to write a word about; Clark Kent and the Green Arrow. Why they would trust her, he still wondered.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, shaking her head, expression blank.

Instead of dancing around the subject, he made it simple. “Green Arrow.”

She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “What about him?”

She was good, he’d give her that. If he didn’t have photographic proof, he might have even believed her. She could have gone into acting rather than reporting. “You’re telling me you don’t know him?”

She shrugged, her mouth pursing. “I know a lot of people.”

Lex found himself becoming annoyed. “His identity, Chloe,” he said gruffly. “I want to know who he is.” He stared her down, trying to intimidate her.

She didn’t even flinch. Her expression turned mockingly quizzical. “Have you checked the White Pages?”

He sniggered, unamused. “This will all be a lot easier if you just give me a name.”

She sighed, leaning forward. “Look Lex, we’ve done this before. We both know how it ends.” She lifted a hand, palm up, and shook her head. “I don’t know Green Arrow’s identity. He’s just another hero.”

“Hero,” he spat, the many times his warehouses had been blown up and his plans had been destroyed filled his mind. He flipped open the file on his desk, smirking at the colored photos he’d had specially developed two hours prior. “So tell me, is it the green leather that turns you on?” he asked, holding up a photo of the two in lip lock. “You should be more careful," he told her. "You never know who’s watching.”

He stood, walking around the desk to bring the photo to her and dropping it in her lap. She stared down at it a moment, her fingers wrapping around the edges. While Green Arrow’s face was covered, the angle gave a clear view of their lips slanting together and Chloe’s face was easily recognizable. There was even a little tongue shown between them and he smirked in triumph.

Her expression hardened instead of falling, like he’d expected. “What can I say? He knew something I needed to know.”

“And this is how you get information?” he asked, leaning forward, his eyes tracing her figure. “Should I follow in your footsteps?” His hand reached out, forefinger curling to trace her cheek.

She shuddered, her head pulling back from him. “I wouldn’t suggest it.” Her tone was acidic; her expression warning him that she wasn’t tolerant of his behavior.

Still, he was amused by how defiant she could be in the face of what she was. She knew his power and influence; he could dispose of her within seconds. He chose to ignore the many times he’d had her in his clutches and she’d escaped. There was no Clark Kent or Green Arrow to save her this time, however. “Oh?” he asked, lips curving.

She flicked the picture from her lap, staring up at him with hateful eyes. “It’s not as effective as you might think.”

“I don’t know about that…” He said, lifting a few more photos. Her expression clearly in the throes as the leather covered man thrust into her, hands taking hers and holding them tight against the bricks. His head was bowed, kissing her neck as she tipped her head back, eyes shut tight and mouth open in an obvious cry of pleasure. “Looks like Green Arrow wasn’t put off by your affection in the least. In fact…” The last photo showed him caressing her cheek and kissing her forehead. “You look a whole lot closer than just source and reporter.”

“Camera angles,” she muttered with a lift of her shoulder.

He laughed humorlessly. “It’s rather hard to fake screwing up against a wall, don’t you think?” He tisked, shaking his head. “Who knew you were such a _dirty_ reporter?”

Chloe scowled, crossing her legs and staying silent. Her jaw tightened in her aggravation as she stared straight ahead.

“I have all night, Miss Sullivan,” he reminded, feeling as though he had the upper hand.

“Funny, Lana had a far less flattering view,” she threw at him, smirking.

His expression turned murderous and she turned her eyes away, hoping her fear wasn’t palpable.

His hand flew out, striking her across the face. Her lip was torn and blood dribbled down her chin. “I’m a man of little patience, Miss Sullivan. And my temper is flaring with your presence.” He leaned back against his desk. “End this now and just give me a name. It’s as easy as that. And you can leave, with no more repercussions.”

She looked up at him, mouth pursed. “Not. Gonna. Happen.”

He sneered. “You never learn.”

“Neither do you,” she replied, glaring.

He avoided cursing. She was a lot harder to break than he expected; he should’ve learned by now. “What would it take for you to break your silence?”

Her hard green eyes met his. “The dead don’t speak.”

While he was surprised, he didn’t show it. The implication that she would die for this secret as well was something that still boggled the mind. To die for somebody else… Why? Loyalty? What would that get you in the end? Besides a nice burial and a little respect that would be forgotten in the long run. Her little Green Arrow would appreciate it for a moment and then move on. Just another casualty of war. But his reasoning wouldn’t change her mind, he knew that well enough.

“Have it your way,” he said, rounding the desk to pull his gun from the desk drawer. Some part of him wondered if he’d really do it while another part of him figured the scare would be enough. She couldn’t truly be _that_ loyal, could she? Such strength didn’t exist. There was a coward in everyone; he just needed to draw it out of her. “Such a waste, don’t you think? All those dreams you have, down the drain.”

“Some things are more important,” she replied.

“A vigilante who’s out to destroy the progression of science?” he asked, jaw tightening.

“To stop a madman from destroying mankind,” she corrected, lifting a challenging brow. “Always trying to play God, Lex. Evolution doesn’t need your help.”

He sighed, tipping his head as he checked the chamber on his gun to make sure it was full. “How sad, up and coming Daily Planet reporter Chloe Sullivan was found dead just outside of her workplace. Another senseless crime. When will we learn?”

“Sadly, I don’t think you ever will,” she replied, shaking her head. “Luckily, there are a few great men out there just waiting to teach you your lesson.” She cocked her brow at him. “When you decide to take the dunce hat off, maybe you’ll listen.”

He sneered, raising his gun to her forehead. “Any last words? A name perhaps?”

“Robin Hood,” she replied through grit teeth.

His jaw flexed and he used his thumb to take the safety of his .45. “I’m sure I’ll miss that sense of humor of yours.”

“Undoubtedly.”

As his forefinger slid against the trigger, the window behind him shattered and the man in question stood on his desk, holding a ready-to-go arrow at his head. “I wouldn’t suggest doing that,” he told him, his voice deep and gravelly.

Lex weighed his options, keeping the gun trained on Chloe, his eyes turning sideways toward the sharp end of the arrow just centimeters from his temple. “So glad you could join us,” he said in greeting. “We were just discussing you.”

“Stimulating conversation, I’m sure.”

Lex’s mouth twitched. No wonder he and Chloe got along so well. “The photos were more stimulating than anything.”

While he couldn’t see the man’s eyes, he was sure they fell to the evidence he was standing on and the copy on the floor by Chloe’s feet.

“Sexual offender now, are we Lex? Bit below even you, don’t you think?”

“Not my fault your little reporter chooses to trade sexual favors for information.”

He felt the arrow come closer to his head and silently swallowed tightly.

The doors opened in the background and the two bumbling guards stumbled in, guns drawn. He felt a breath of relief escape him, but then Chloe was standing and had a gun in either hand that she’d pulled from the straps at her thighs.

“You didn’t check her?” Lex half-shouted, blown away by his guard’s idiocy.

“Didn’t think it was needed,” one admitted, looking aggravated by the blonde pointing her gun at him.

She held them a lot steadier than he expected of her and was sure that if he dug a little, he’d find that she’d been practicing at the range lately. You can never be too careful.

“We’re going to need those pictures and the negatives,” the Green Arrow told him.

“They’re all yours,” he replied, his tone light.

The Green Arrow bent low, bow still held steady and picked up the folder of pictures. “Negatives?”

“Didn’t get them back from Wal-Mart,” he replied, sneering.

“Wal-Mart? Because cheap is your middle name,” he mocked sarcastically.

“Who’s the private photographer you’re using?” Chloe queried, her tone harsh, expecting answers.

“Can’t remember his name,” Lex replied.

“Try,” the Green Arrow told him.

“Leave a number; I’ll get back to you.”

The Green Arrow leapt off the desk, walking around it. Chloe bent low, guns still pointing directly at the guards, one falling as she picked up the last picture. He took it from her hand, adding it to the folder.

“These meetings are getting old,” the Green Arrow told him. “I haven’t killed you in the past, but come near her again and I won’t hesitate.”

Lex turned his head, eyes staring straight at the stoic figure before him. There was no cocky grin or confident amusement in his tone. He was deadly serious. “Frankly, I’m tired of these meetings as well. If you’d simply stay out of my business—“

“Impossible,” he interrupted. “As long as you keep being a monster to society, I’ll keep ruining you.” It wasn’t a threat, but a promise. “Chloe?”

She nodded shortly, walking around the chair and standing back to back with her lover. They stepped fluidly toward the door and the guards separated, though their guns stayed on them. When she was close enough, however, she used her guns to knock theirs down and then used the butt of her pistols to crack the noses on the two guards, effectively bringing them to their knees.

“Always interesting,” Green Arrow said in farewell, before he and Chloe had turned the corner and were running down the hall.

Lex hurried to the door, gun lifted, but as he turned the corner, they were gone. He chased after them, running down various hallways, only to find they were long gone. An engine could be heard in the distance and he ran to a window to see her climbing on the back, arms wrapping around the Green Arrow’s waist as they took off. They were too far away to shoot and he cursed their very existence. Still, he smirked as he walked back to his office, rolling his eyes as it his incompetent henchmen fumbling to get up from the floor, holding their broken noses. He still had the negatives with his private photographer and by Monday, they’d be posted in every tabloid he could call.

It wasn’t until the next morning that he received a call from said photographer to find out he’d been robbed and the negatives were missing. He slammed the phone down, scowling over the fact that Chloe Sullivan had evaded him once more and the identity of Green Arrow was still a mystery. His hands sat in a steeple before him as he reclined at his desk in thought. Whatever it took, he was going to unmask the green hero and take down his reporter lover at the same time. Victory would be his. Soon.


	46. Say No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d been prepared for a break up, not a proposal, and he couldn’t let that happen.

They found him in his arrow room, carefully putting his trick arrows in each of their appointed areas. He had a stack in his hands, all being held carefully so not to trigger them. AC, Bart and Clark exchanged looks, grinning. They knew not to bother asking if he wanted help, he wouldn’t let them touch his arrows. They were sacred and therefore nobody bothered offering anymore. He only allowed one other to touch them, and even she had him standing right behind her, keeping an eye on her movements. They were deadly weapons after all. They figured it was a half and half chance that he was standing so close for her safety and because he wanted to be near her. For the last year and a half Oliver had been madly crushing on their Watchtower. The spunky and vivacious blonde had intrigued something in the usually stoic leader. Since Lois was long out of the picture, now dating Superman himself, the League didn’t see the problem. They realized, however, that Oliver wasn’t pursuing his feelings for very unselfish reasons; her safety being the main one. She was already in danger on a constant basis, given her day and night job and her close affiliation with the blond billionaire as it was and he didn’t want to add to that.

It was obvious though that the attraction wasn’t ebbing. If anything, it was growing daily. If they weren’t standing next to each other, they were on the phone together. If Oliver was nowhere to be found, all a League member had to do was call Chloe and they’d know where he was. It had only recently declined some since Chloe had reignited her relationship with photographer Jimmy Olsen, much to Oliver’s obvious chagrin. He’d been closed off lately; quieter than usual, clipped in conversation with everyone, and just generally in a pissy mood. It was no mystery why he was annoyed; he and Chloe had been tighter than tight the last while. It wasn’t rare to visit Oliver and find him hanging out with Chloe; watching TV, talking, cooking together, working out, teaching her to shoot an arrow. It was just a matter of time before they got together. The League was getting impatient, however. They had thought when Jimmy came back into the picture, Oliver would give in and tell her his feelings; instead he was moping. And they were tired of it. Drastic measures were called for!

“Hey Ollie,” AC greeted, stepping into the room and leaning back against the wall.

Oliver glanced at them over his shoulder and it was evident through the frown on his face that he was still brooding. He simply nodded at them before going back to putting his arrows away.

“Where’s Chloelicious at? Doesn’t she usually help you organize all this?” Bart wondered, lifting a brow.

They could see the scowl tugging at his mouth as he shrugged. “She’s got a date tonight.”

“Oh yeah, she told me about that,” Clark said, nodding. “Big night.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed and he looked over to Clark questioningly.

“I was talking to Jimmy earlier, I guess tonight’s _the_ night.” His brows raised and his mouth thinned slightly.

“Dude, it’s so not cool to tell your friends when you’re finally doing your girlfriend,” Bart commented, his head tilting.

Oliver glared at him. “I doubt he meant _that_.”

“Why?” AC wondered curiously.

He cleared his throat, turning his eyes back to the arrows. “They only just got back together and she doesn’t trust him yet.”

“She told you that?”

His shoulders hunched slightly. “Nope.”

They didn’t bother asking for clarification; besides Clark, Oliver knew Chloe best.

“Well, if things go as Jimmy planned I doubt they’ll be holding back in that area,” Clark said, shifting slightly at the subject.

“Why’s that?” Bart asked, lifting his leg and crossing it over the other as he leaned back against a shelf boredly.

“He’s asking her to marry him.”

All of the arrows in Oliver’s arms slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground with a loud crash. One triggered, sending an electrical current off that dulled out a moment later when it didn’t latch onto anything. The three League members exchanged looks before Oliver bent forward to pick them all up, staying quiet.

“Dude, Chloelicious is gonna be a wife!” Bart said with an awed tone.

As Oliver stood up abruptly, he knocked the back of his head on a shelf, sending a few more arrows to the floor. Rubbing the back of his head, he glanced at them, his complexion having gone completely white. “She’s _not_ going to marry that goofy photographer guy,” he told them, voice annoyed as he scooped up the arrows and practically stuffed them onto the shelves with little to no care. “They’ve only been back together three weeks and four days!” Not that he’d been counting or anything. “That’s hardly enough time to consider marrying her!”

“Hey, we’re not the ones proposing!” AC told him, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“I think it kind of depends on how Chloe feels,” Clark said with a half-shrug.

“And you’re okay with that?” Oliver asked accusingly. “He doesn’t deserve her. He barely knows her!” He threw the last of his arrows onto the shelf and left the room quickly, practically stomping as he walked toward the kitchen. It didn’t surprise them that he took two mugs down from the cupboard and filled them, one for himself and the other how Chloe liked hers, despite her not being there. He always did that. Usually, though, she was there to drink it. He leaned back against the counter and held his cup up to his mouth, muttering under his breath. “She doesn’t even trust him enough to tell him about being Watchtower!” He shook his head. “How is their marriage going to work if she has to sneak out all the time?”

“Well, I guess—“

“You don’t think she’d give up working for the League, do you?” he asked anxiously, his eyes widening slightly. This was the most open they’d seen him in weeks. “She’s a vital part of the team, we can’t lose her!”

“I doubt she’d—“

“And what about her work at the Planet? She’s a little busy to go on a honeymoon,” he practically spat the end. “And where could they go anyway? He’s barely making ends meet and she’s still paying off her student loans! They can’t even afford a wedding as it is.” He lifted his cup to his mouth but broke away before he could take a drink. “What if they just get a justice of the peace to do it? She deserves a big wedding, not some little thing on paper!”

“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? I mean—“

“I have to go…” he said suddenly, dropping his mug on the counter. “Uh, I just remembered I have something… important to do. Yeah. I’ll see you later.” He left without waiting for their reply, grabbing a coat and half-running toward the elevator.

“Worked like a charm,” AC commented with a smirk.

“I still don’t see why we’re getting Ollie and Chloelicious together,” Bart mumbled, frowning.

“You know there’s something going on there. They’re just too stubborn to admit it!”

“Or you’re too stubborn to admit she’d be better off with me!” Bart claimed.

Clark snorted, shaking his head. “By the end of the night, I bet those two will finally get their act together.”

“Great. Now all we have to do is find Bart a girl,” AC said, shoving the shorter man who glared at him.

* * *

He took a cab to The Planet. He didn’t want to walk down the street to his car and taking his bike out would look rather suspicious. As he sat in the back seat, his knee jumped nervously. He’d been expecting them to fall apart. While he wasn’t willing to get into a relationship, given their status in the League and her relation to Lois, not to mention the fact that he was sure she didn’t like him _that_ way, he also didn’t want her to be with anyone else. It was selfish, he knew, but he’d grown to care about her in a way he’d never expected. He could admit that they were spending a lot more time together than they should be. And it wouldn’t take much to figure out their relationship; a simple glance at his phone records would show her number was obviously on his speed dial. Number 1, in fact.

 

She was good to talk to; a friendly voice that understood him and knew his secret. She picked him up when missions dragged him down, dusted him off and told him to get his head back in the game. Sometimes, he came home after a long night only to find her sleeping at his desk, a mug of cooling hot chocolate set out for him, with mini marshmallows, just how he liked it. He’d end up carrying her to his bed and tucking her in, stroking the hair out of her face before he left to camp out on the couch. She’d make breakfast in the morning in thank you and they’d go about their lives like it was normal between two friends. She always seemed to know when he needed to talk to her. He’d have the worst day imaginable and the next minute his cell would be ringing, her name flashing before him.

“Hey hunk, what’s up?” was her general greeting. Which got them in trouble the one time Bart answered his phone for him, speeding away from his reaching hand. It unfortunately resulted in a lot of unwanted attention and teasing. He made sure never to let Bart in the vicinity of his phone from then on.

Her voice cheered him up; just hearing it through the phone, no matter how many hours away he was, he could feel the various problems in his life instantly melt away. He’d never had that before. He’d always dealt with it on his own; through target practice or yoga. That she had the ability to ease his mind without even really trying was a miracle all on its own. He became attached to that feeling; to hearing her voice daily and finding a sense of peace he’d long given up on.

He ignored his growing feelings for a year; told himself it was just a result of their close friendship. But then he found himself doing things he knew a friend wouldn’t do. Always making her a cup of coffee, whether she was there or not. Stocking his shelves with her favorite brand and buying her an extra large mug, never to be used by anyone else. It was when he bought her a house coat for whenever she fell asleep at his place that he knew his feelings for her had changed far too much for him to ignore any longer. Her laughter made him smile. Her smile made his stomach squirm. Her touch made him warm; from head to toe.

And now she was getting proposed to by the wrong guy. He was sure Jimmy Olsen had a few redeeming qualities, not that he cared to think of them in that moment. But he also knew that there was no way Jimmy could possibly know Chloe like he did. Their relationship had ended the first time because she wasn’t sure he could handle her lifestyle and he’d expected the same reason to cause the end this time. He knew it was selfish and he should want her to be happy. It shouldn’t matter who the guy was as long as he deserved her. But he couldn’t accept the fact that he might have to give his Watchtower away to some photographer that had no idea how beautiful her smile was. Or how utterly adorable she looked every morning when she just woke up, mumbling about coffee beans and the weird dream she’d had. There was no way that Jimmy had any idea just how incredible a person Chloe was. He couldn’t. Because he didn’t know all of her; he knew the intrepid reporter with a penchant for the weird, but he didn’t know the heroine that worked behind a computer at night to bring justice to the world. He didn’t know that she spent hours sitting in Queen Towers, keeping herself awake on four or five mugs of her favorite dark brew, chatting with him through his ear piece about random everything. He didn’t know that those sick days or weeks she had every once in awhile were her going to Japan or wherever, jetting around on his private plane with a group of superheroes. He didn’t know that she slept in Oliver’s shirts three nights out of the week, when she just didn’t have the energy to go home. That sometimes, she asked him to stay with her and she’d cuddle up to him in his giant bed and fall asleep with her nose pressed against his chest, breathing him in before she fell asleep. He didn’t know Chloe at all.

The cab came to a halt and Oliver threw a bill he was sure was too large to the cabbie before rushing out of the car and into the building ahead of him. Most of the reporters had already gone home, but Chloe had mentioned to him that Jimmy was picking her up from her office and taking her out for dinner. He glanced at the large clock ahead of him and scowled. He was pretty sure he was late and he tried to remember which restaurant she mentioned they’d be going to. He continued up the stairs anyway. She often made Jimmy wait because she had to finish whatever thought she was writing down, which turned into thirty or forty minutes and he desperately wished she did that same thing to him this time.

He rounded the corner and weaved through the desks until he reached the half open door leading to her private office. He could see the light on inside and his heartbeat sped up with hope. Pushing the door open, he stumbled inside to find her poring over papers. She glanced up at him with surprise written on her face.

Finding no Jimmy in the room, he slammed the door behind him and walked toward her. Breathlessly (for a hero, he apparently needed to work out more), he told her, “Say no!” He stared at her with wide, serious eyes.

Her brow furrowed and she shook her head slightly. “What?”

He swallowed tightly. Now that he thought about it, he figured the heavy breathing was more out of nervousness than anything. While he and Chloe had various in depth conversation, feelings taken into consideration, he’d never been very forthcoming with emotions like love or attachment or anything similar. Loyalty he knew. Courage he understood. But love… It could be so fickle, so untrustworthy. It could burn him; badly. And he’d never loved anybody like he did her. He’d never spent the majority of his time wondering when he’d seen her again or hear her voice. He’d never checked his phone so many times in one day, in the hope that he’d see her name flashing. She was ingrained in him and he didn’t want to lose her. Not to anyone or anything. Not to Jimmy Olsen or their lifestyle. He was tired of hiding.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a deep breath. She looked confused and yet somewhat understanding. She stared at him, knowing he was gathering the words. “I’m sorry I waited so long. That I avoided this; us. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when I fell in love with you that… That I love you. I’m sorry that I thought I needed to shield you. From the world or our relationship or anything. That I ever let you think I didn’t love you. Because I do. I have for a long time.” He shook his head. “I wake up thinking about you and I go to sleep wishing I could hold you. And I- I know how complicated this is. I’m Green Arrow and you’re Watchtower. I dated Lois and you’re with Jimmy. I know that you’re in enough danger as it is and being with me will only add to that.” He lifted his arms in an almost pleading gesture. “I’ve thought of all these reasons not to be with you. The con list is at least ten feet long. But then…” His throat felt tight and his tongue too large for his mouth. “Then you call me or I see you and that list seems trivial compared to the list of things I love about you.”

Her eyes were glimmering with tears and he didn’t know what to make of that. Rejection? A sorrowful apology? An end to a friendship that they’d bred over a year and a half and he honestly couldn’t stand to lose?

“I love how your hair smells and that smile you give me when your first wake up, with your eyes still closed.” His jaw clenched. “I love how you feel in my arms, whether you’re hugging me or leaning against me or cuddled up to me when we go to sleep.” He let out a shaky breath. “How you look in my shirt. How you don’t even ask for coffee anymore because you know that I’ll make it for you. How you always seem to know when I’m having a bad day. I love that you make me hot chocolate to cheer me up after patrols and how you meticulously put my arrows away, all the while teasing me for being so careful.”

Her hand rose, brushing away a tear and she bit her lip, staring up at him.

“Please,” he asked. “Say no. Don’t marry him.”

“Marry him…” She repeated, shaking her head. Her brows knit together. “Oliver, I broke up with Jimmy tonight. And… I don’t think he was going to ask me to marry him.”

Oliver crossed his arms. “But Clark said…” He frowned. “The guys - they came by…” His forehead wrinkled with confusion before he sighed, chuckling slightly before lifting a hand to rub his face. “They set me up! They… I can’t believe they would…” He stood in utter shock. He couldn’t –wouldn’t- take it back, but he had no idea how she would react to it all. He’d basically just poured his heart out and set it down in front of her to either accept or turn away. He’d never put so much out there for a woman before. She was worth it, but some part of him was truly terrified of what she might do.

He heard the creak of her chair and the click of her heels as she rounded her desk. He didn’t want to look; he kept his hand over his face even as he felt her body sidle up close to his. Her hand lifted, wrapping around his forearm and drawing it down. As it fell, she took his hand in her own, their fingers threading. She stared up at him for a moment, her eyes searching his. “Did you mean what you said?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper.

He reached up, hand cupping her face, thumb stroking her cheek. “Every word,” he admitted honestly. There was no going back now.

She smiled, her eyes filling with tears once more. “I love you, too.” She shook her head. “I have for a long time. I just thought…” She sniffled before laughing slightly.

A grin tugged his mouth up before he tipped his head and pressed his lips against hers. Her hands slid up his arms, wrapping around the back of his neck and his arms encircled her waist, drawing her body up against his. Their mouths slanted over one another’s, tongues tangling and lips almost bruising in their intensity. One of his hands rose up her back before tangling in her soft blonde locks. She tasted like coffee and cinnamon gum; a ritual she’d picked up when she was overloaded with work, he knew. There was a burst of relief that filled him as the all the words had been said and the kiss he’d been longing to press against her mouth had finally come to fruition. It had been so long and despite the various times he’d told himself it was best not to go there, he knew now he’d been deluding himself. There was nothing better than the stroke of her tongue against his, the pressure of her lips on his, the feel of her fingers in his hair and the curves of her body fitting against his.

They backed up against the desk and he lifted her up by her hips until she was sitting on the side of it, her legs parting as he slid between them. Their lips broke apart as they panted for air, eyes opening and gazes meeting.

“Think we should thank them?” she asked, her voice wobbly.

“Let ‘em wait a few days.” He pressed a lingering kiss to her swollen lips. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”

She grinned, arms tightening around his neck and a laugh escaping her as he leaned her back against the desk, pushing her skirt up with one hand.


	47. According to Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it came to them, nothing goes according to plan.

AC, Victor, Clark and Bart stood anxiously in the elevator awaiting its arrival at their destination. Clark and Bart had just supersped their two League brothers from a town three states over after finding out some interesting information. They were going to need Oliver’s input before they did anything and rather than leave anybody behind, they agreed it was time to return to base and discuss everything with their boss. Their timing wasn’t exactly what anyone would call good seeing as it was about 4:30 in the morning and Oliver was likely fast asleep. They’d tried calling Chloe at her apartment and even stopped by to see if she needed to be brought into Metropolis but the intrepid reporter was nowhere to be found. The elevator dinged and they climbed off, walking through the dark apartment, hitting the lights to give a better view of their surroundings. They weren’t surprised to see that the kitchen and living room area were empty and the bedroom door was closed.

“This can’t wait,” AC said, shaking his head as he put his hands on his sides.

“Yeah, but Ollie’s not really a morning person,” Bart reminded, looking rather unconvinced that the best option was waking up their boss.

“He’ll appreciate it later,” Clark told them, walking toward the door leading to the bedroom. 

“It’s probably not the smartest idea to barge in unannounced,” Victor warned, taking up the rear as the group maneuvered toward the room.

His warning went unheeded as they threw the door open, only to come to a shocked halt.

Lying in bed was not only Oliver Queen, but the missing Watchtower as well. They obviously hadn’t heard their arrival as they were snuggled up close in the bed, Oliver’s arm wrapped around her body as her head was nestled close beneath his chin. Even with the darkness of the room, it was noticeable that they weren’t wearing any clothes beneath the sheet that covered all vital areas.

The League stood in silence before Bart woke them all out of their stupor.

“Dude!” he exclaimed so loudly the couple were roused.

Reflexes honed through their night work had the sleeping couple reacting rather sharply. A trick arrow, that seemed to appear from beneath the pillow, was aimed from Oliver’s direction. To Chloe’s credit, she wasn’t far behind. The sharp hand disks she’d been training to use as her private weapon escaped her hand and flew toward the group. Bart managed to superspeed out of the way and both the trick arrow and disk landed just an inch from each other, embedded deeply in the hard wood wall a very short distance from Victor’s face.

A moment later, the couple relaxed, realizing who it was as Victor flipped the light on. They were faced with the wide expressions of the League brothers staring at them in obvious shock. And a little annoyance in Victor’s case.

Tiredly, Chloe rubbed her face and wrapped the sheet around her. “Are you going to be here long?” she wondered through a yawn.

Clark snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now we are.”

“I’m making coffee,” she grumbled, taking the sheet with her as she moved to stand. She leaned back a moment later to kiss Oliver briefly; she lingered longer than meant to as his hand rose to cup her cheek and keep her mouth against his. A cleared throat had them breaking apart before she made her way out of the bedroom. She slid easily through the staring crowd of men, her dark sheet trailing behind her as she ran a hand through her hair and did nothing to hide the yawn escaping her once more.

Bart moved over to the dresser and pulled himself onto it, his legs dangling over the side as he hunched forward and glared at Oliver.

Lazily, Oliver leaned back against the bed, his arms crossing behind his head, against the pillow.

Outside of the room, cupboards could be heard opening and closing rather roughly. Admittedly, Chloe wasn’t much of a morning person either until she got a cup or three of coffee into her.

“She’s gonna be in a bad mood the rest of the day,” Oliver mumbled accusingly.

“Explain,” Clark said rather harshly.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Boyscout.”

“Sweet, mama Chloe has some nice lingerie!” Bart commented, nodding his head toward the lacey green bra lying on the floor. His eyes roamed the room, spotting her panties as well and he grinned foolishly. “Score one for Ollie! Nice!”

Oliver rolled his eyes.

The clothes lying haphazardly across the floor were evidence enough of what happened the night before if the lack of any clothes on the two wasn’t enough. It didn’t appear to be the first time either, given how at ease the two were with the situation. If they were to really consider the last few months, they’d realize that something had been different between the two. They were more playful with each other; their banter filled with more innuendo than usual. And their touches, though brief before, lingered now. Oliver could often be seen brushing her hair behind her ear or stroking the sliver of skin shown at the small of her back beneath the rim of her shirt and the top of her skirt. They’d ignored the close relation the two had but as they looked back now, it was rather obvious. He may not have kissed her or cuddled up with her in public, but they stood close to each other and they could often be found whispering to each other, their conversations kept secret between each other.

Before they could start asking the questions they were all wondering, Chloe returned with two mugs and crawled back into the bed, handing one to Oliver and cupping her own up near her mouth as she settled back against the headboard.

“What? No brew for us?” Bart whined.

“You woke me up,” she replied, frowning at him.

“So when’d this start?” AC wondered, cutting right to the chase.

Chloe and Oliver exchanged looks. “Awhile ago,” they said simultaneously.

“And nobody knew…?” Clark asked, exasperated.

“Well…” Chloe’s eyes scrunched up and her mouth pursed and she bobbed her head side to side.

“I knew,” Victor admitted. “Found ‘em making out on a mission last month.”

Chloe half-smiled, almost looking apologetic toward Victor. She lifted a shoulder. “And Lois knows. Oh and Lana.” 

“And Mrs. Kent,” Oliver added, nodding.

Chloe took a sip of her coffee, licking her lips. “Mm hmm, and Roy.”

“And Bruce.”

“And Jimmy.”

Oliver lifted a brow thoughtfully. “And that copier boy at the Daily Planet.”

“That gossip columnist knew too,” Chloe told them but then waved a hand at their questioning expressions. “We _convinced_ her not to print it.”

Clark sighed, looking rather annoyed. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Sneaking around is half the fun,” Chloe told them, lifting her mug of coffee with a grin. Faced with their unamused expressions, she sighed. “We were going to. We were just busy.” She shrugged, unapologetic.

“We can see that,” AC muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Oliver sent him a withering glare. “There’s been a lot going on.”

“You’ve had months!” Clark exclaimed.

“You were there; you know how busy we all were.”

“Apparently not too busy to get caught by various people!”

“Unfortunate incidents,” Oliver said, nodding.

Admittedly, they really had planned to tell them all. The list of people that found out grew quicker than they could’ve imagined. For heroes designed to keep secrets and be careful, they had a tendency of getting caught in the wrong situations. With all the work going on for the League and separately for real life, the time simply didn’t arise for them to sit down their friends and admit their relationship. And, she wasn’t lying when she said it was fun sneaking around.

“Chloelicious,” Bart sighed remorsefully. “We coulda been great!”

She smiled at him in amusement. “Sorry Bart.”

He put a hand over his heart and frowned. “Ya broke me.”

“You’ll get over it,” Oliver told him, lifting a brow. “So you all know now. Glad we had this chat; you can leave the way you entered. It is way too early.”

“Actually, we came for a reason,” Victor told him, shaking his head. “And this wasn’t it.”

“And you implied we were never busy,” Chloe mumbled, rolling her eyes.

“All right. Let’s hear it,” Oliver said. His arm wrapped around Chloe’s shoulder as she leaned her head against his arm. The two cuddled in bed, listening to the synopsis of their new mission, all the while drinking coffee and ignoring the uncomfortable shuffling of their friends. So their finding out didn’t go exactly according to plan. That wasn’t surprising given the lives they lived. Still, they smiled at each other, eyes roaming from the men in front of them to each other. He stroked her shoulder with his thumb and wondered what the group would do if he started kissing her. She looked really sexy in the morning.

“Hey!” Bart complained. “Over here, lovebirds. This is serious! Keeps your paws off each other!” He hopped down off the dresser and shook his head at them in mock chastisement. “Kids these days. Just walking hormones!”

Chloe laughed, shaking her head as she buried her face against Oliver’s chest. Sometimes, she really loved her life. She had the greatest group of men in her life than anybody could ever ask for. She felt Oliver kiss the top of her head and her mouth twisted with a smile. And she had one holding onto her that she hoped never let go.


	48. Blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was blind once, but now she saw. 

When Lois heard her cousin was in the hospital (again), she hadn’t expected to find what she did. She’d rushed down hallways, heels clicking behind her loudly. She waved off the annoying nurses asking her where she was going and what she was doing. While Chloe often got into trouble, that didn’t make moments like this any easier. She was alive, she knew, but Chloe had a habit of getting into serious danger and she needed to see her to feel any semblance of calm. She slowed as the half-open door leading to Chloe came into view and took a deep breath. She knew going in looking frazzled wouldn’t help and she wanted her wits about her. While she and her cousin were the closest family could get, they still used humor to get out of those moments that could swallow a person whole. She approached the door hesitantly, planting a smile on her face despite knowing Chloe would see right through it. However, as she stood in the doorway, she was greeted with a sight that never entered her mind for a moment.

Chloe wasn’t alone. Lois would’ve expected Clark to be there, maybe even Jimmy given the two were still friends. But the male lying on the bed beside her, head on the stiff pillow, directed toward Chloe and only a few inches apart, was _not_ anybody Lois had thought she’d see for some time and not in the position he was in now. While she’d reconciled her feelings for the man and she understood his secret and the lifestyle he led, even knew that Chloe worked for him on occasion, she’d never expected _this_. Her body went rigid with shock and she peered through the space of the door to the couple that lay unknowing of her spying. 

Chloe looked pretty beat up; her face covered in various bruises, lip fat with a cut and a bandage running along her hairline. Still, she smiled brilliantly at the man next to her. She was comfortably sprawled beneath the starchy white blanket while he lay on top of it in a relaxed position that spoke volumes. There were no designer suits today and so she knew it wasn’t just a stop by from work. In fact, he was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a green sweater shirt that she assumed he threw on in haste. His large hand reached out toward Chloe, brushing her bangs off her face gently, thumb stroking the edge of the bandage as if to soothe her pain away. As his hand slid lower, it grazed the side of her face before skimming down her back and lying comfortably against her.

“You keep getting into these scrapes and I think I’m going to have to lock you away,” he told her, voice low and quiet. His mouth quirked with a grin. “Hide you away in my bedroom and never let you stir up any more trouble.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Hey, I’m _solving_ these problems. Sometimes, trouble needs to be stirred.”

His fingers rubbed at her back slowly. “Does it always have to be you doing it?”

“You do your fair share,” she reminded, staring up at him through her deep green eyes. “We all do our part, Ollie.”

“So why is it you’re the one that takes most of the damage?” he wondered, the humor he’d previously held in his voice fading.

“Bad luck,” she told him, half-smiling. “It happens.”

He sighed, shifting closer to her and she snuggled up to his chest, her hand splaying out over his side. “You’re not impenetrable.”

“Neither are you.”

He stared at her soberly before leaning in to press a kiss against her forehead, his eyes closing as he lingered. “We could pick up training again,” he suggested quietly. “When your strength is back.”

She rubbed his arm, shaking her head. “No matter how much I train, things aren’t going to change. I do this, I love this, and sometimes…” She frowned. “It gets me hurt.” She nuzzled her forehead against his chin. “I’ve accepted it; so should you.”

“I don’t want to get a call from the hospital one night telling me your luck ran out,” he murmured, voice strained. His arms tightened around her and she rubbed his side.

Tugging back slightly, she looked up at him, her hand lifting to cup his cheek, thumb stroking beneath his eye. “I can’t promise it won’t happen. We agreed when this started that we wouldn’t let our feelings interfere with our lifestyles.” Her fingertips ran up and down the side of his face and Lois admitted, at least to herself, that she’d never seen her cousin so tender with someone. “I would never ask you to stop being who you are and you can’t ask me.”

“I know.” He licked his lips. “I know,” he repeated, his jaw clenching before he rested his chin on the top of her head and hugged her close.

Lois didn’t know what to make of it. Her ex-boyfriend, a man she’d loved, with the cousin she adored like a sister. Her heart stuttered and her knees felt weak. She told her feet to run, to get away from the vision before her. God it hurt more than she ever expected. She knew the two were close. Good friends, at least. Chloe had been working with Oliver for the last year, doing research work for his League and so she kept up constant communication with him. It wasn’t rare to hear she was out with him; another city, another state, another country even. Lois trusted Oliver with her cousin’s life and she hadn’t been disappointed to know that he took that responsibility very serious. She hadn’t realized he’d grown so close to her though.

She’d seen the two together in the past and maybe she’d been blind to it. As she thought back, there were various moments that stood out as more than friendly. Why did they always show up together to events? Why was it she only really spent her time with Oliver and not the rest of the League? Most coworkers don’t refer to each other with pet names like Angel Eyes and Romeo. They didn’t stand as close as Oliver and Chloe did or touch each other so intimately. Most leaders wouldn’t kiss the cheek of a League member in greeting or stroke their hair at random intervals. How could she not have seen it earlier? The way Oliver seemed magnetically drawn to Chloe’s side over the last year. How Chloe had avoided her hints at dating various guys she knew; backed up by Oliver’s easy change of the subject each time. The whispering, the little touches, the phone conversations that she always left the room to have, the way Oliver looked at her, how she looked back. She shook her head, tears sprung to her eyes. They’d been together all along.

Chloe rolled onto her other side, her back pressing into his chest. He spooned up behind her, one of his arms beneath the pillow while the other wrapped around her. Her eyes were fluttering slightly with tiredness and Lois felt her throat strain as she watched the way Oliver tipped his head down, nuzzling her hair out of the way to press a kiss behind her ear. Chloe’s mouth quirked with a small smile. Oliver’s lips trailed down the column of her neck and Chloe even shrugged down the sleeve of her hospital gown so there was more skin for him to lavish. So sweet and tender, he brushed his lips over her skin, caressing it as if it were the most exotic of silks. She turned her head slightly, looking up at him from the corner of her eyes, fond adoration glittering out at him. And he stared back, those brown eyes looking warmer than Lois had ever seen.

He smiled before pressing a kiss against her cheek, dropping lower, inch by inch, until his lips were hovering over hers. Chloe’s hand rose, wrapping around the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. Their noses brushed before their lips fused together. His hand lifted to cup cheek, fingers brushing the shell of her ear as they kissed. Lips parting, tongues dancing, mouth slanting and caressing. His hand slid away from her face, tracing her neck and across her collar before sliding down the center of her body, knuckles brushing the curves of her breasts before his palm settled over her stomach, bunching up her gown beneath his fingers as their kiss grew intense. His tongue soothed over the cut of her lip and he suckled it into his mouth, their breath mingling as their kisses became slow, lingering brushes. Their eyes opened to stare at each other, chins tipping up with each meeting of their lips. Her eyes fluttered and he drew away from her mouth, kissing her neck once more as he nuzzled his face down against her shoulder.

With a soft sigh, she settled her head back against the pillow and let her eyes fall shut.

“I love you,” he murmured against her hair.

“Mm,” she sounded, smiling sleepily. “Love you too.”

Lois’ hand rose, fingers curling tightly as she pressed it against her chest and blinked away her tears. She licked her lips and swallowed the tight ball of emotion in her throat before backing away from the door. She hit a hard hindrance and turned around to face the broad chest of Clark Kent. She looked up at him, bringing up her brave face, and tried to glare. “Mind moving out of the way, Smallville? Us normal sized people have things to do.” Her chin quivered and she prayed he didn’t notice.

He smiled softly and she knew he knew. Her resolve slipped and a tear escaped her eyes. His arms wrapped around her, tight and comforting and she let herself bury her face against his chest. His chin rested atop her hair and she admitted, at least in her rare moment of weakness, that she felt swallowed up by him in an entirely too good way; like he was shielding her from all the hurt. She could grow to appreciate that. With a slight laugh, she drew back before she could think of what could be and looked up at him, lifting a shoulder and wiping her eyes quickly.

They stepped farther away from the door and his hand wrapped around her arm. “You okay?”

He didn’t looks surprised by the revelation of Oliver and Chloe and she wasn’t surprised.

“How long?” she asked instead of answering him.

He sighed, frowning. “Seven or eight months,” he told her, nodding.

Her brows lifted and she bit her lip in a mix of anger and sorrow.

“Only the League really knew,” he said, as if it would soothe her betrayal.

“I’m her cousin,” she said in a strangled whisper when her voice wouldn’t work. “She’s like my _sister_.”

“Which is probably why she didn’t want to tell you,” Clark said thoughtfully.

Lois shook her head. “She should have.”

He was quiet for a moment before he asked, “What would you have done if she had?”

She stared at him, her brows knit.

“Stopped them? Asked her not to fall in love? Made her choose between you and him?” He swallowed, eyes turning away. “You know them, Lois, probably better than most people.” He shook his head. “They’re not together to hurt you or just for the fun of it. They’re…” He sighed heavily, arms crossing over his chest. “You saw them.”

She nodded, blinking rapidly. “He never looked at me like that,” she admitted, shaking her head slightly as her eyes filled once more. “I think he loved me…I _know_ he loved me.” She nodded, turning sad eyes up to him. “But I don’t think he was _in love_ with me.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

“No, listen, I mean… He could leave me, right? He could walk away.” She turned her head, staring at the couple lying in the hospital bed together. “He could never leave her. I know he couldn’t.” She smiled sadly, bitterly. “Look at them, Clark.” She lifted a hand, wiping away a stray tear. “I should be happy for them.” She laughed quietly, humorlessly. “He’s a wonderful man and she’s… She’s so incredible!” She turned her eyes upward, trying to hold back her tears.

“Yeah,” he said quietly and she turned back to stare into his engrossing blue-green eyes, filled with worry and concern and honest care.

“I can’t be happy now,” she admitted with a lift of her shoulder. “But I will be one day.” She sighed, her gaze falling for a moment. “Maybe when they tell me… Maybe when I’m standing at her wedding as her maid of honor…” She shook her head, lips trembling. “Maybe never. Who knows?”

He reached out, his fingers brushing away her tears and cupping her face softly before he tugged her closer and hugged her tightly. Her arms wrapped around him this time and she breathed in that familiar Clark Kent scent. Comforting and refreshing and warm somehow. She didn’t know how long he held her, but her eyes were dry when she finally pulled back. He smiled down at her, hand rubbing her shoulder and she sniffled slightly.

“You hungry?” she asked, lifting a brow. She nodded her head toward the sleeping Chloe. “She may be stuck with hospital food, but I know a great burger joint down the street.”

He grinned, knowing that she was finished with the sad subject of old love and new love and everything between. “I could summon up an appetite.”

“Great,” she said, linking her arm with his and turning them away from the wall. “Keep your paws off my fries though!” she warned, brow lifting.

He chuckled. She ignored the way her stomach squirmed at the deep hearty sound.

As they passed the window to Chloe’s room, she glanced over, peering through the open blinds to see Oliver fast asleep, curled around the woman she knew he would one day marry. There was still a pang in her heart at the thought, but she smiled anyway. She may have been blind before but she wasn’t any longer and she knew a good thing when she saw it. Happily ever after’s were rare, but they’d get theirs. She just knew it.


	49. Her Dad, The Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She came to a startling realization that night.

 

Hailey Moira Queen was born to a lifestyle of wealth and love. Unlike the outlook most often perceived by others of the wealthy, she didn’t grow up with everything she ever asked for and she wasn’t spoiled rotten. She grew up in a large manor outside of Star City, the first daughter of the billionaire Oliver Jonas Queen and his wife, Pulitzer Prize winning investigative reporter, Chloe Ann Queen (nee Sullivan). She had rules like all other children, no matter their financial standing. When her birthday or Christmas came, she wasn’t showered with thousands of gifts, but rewarded with a realistic amount. Her parents were easily able to say no to her and they didn’t let her act as though she were the Queen of all Queens.

She grew up with parents who were heavily charitable and believed in justice and truth religiously. She had six ‘uncles’ that were very much involved in her life: Clark, AC, Bart (her favorite), Pete, Bruce, Victor and Roy. Five aunts that loved to talk to her about boys and clothes and always let her force them into games of dress up and afternoon tea: Lois (her favorite), Lana, Delilah, Samantha, and Kara. She was an only child until she turned five, then her brother Christopher came along. When she turned nine, she had twin brothers to worry about as well: Adam and Jake. With three little brothers, growing up as the only girl in the house was _hell_. Thankfully, her parents stopped reproducing and she didn’t have to put up with babies waking her up by the time she made it into high school.

At sixteen, her most rebellious act against the world was wearing whatever she wanted, whether her parents liked it or not. Not entirely a revolt against society – nothing like how her mom used writing as a tool to bring down the corrupt. Now the editor of the Star City paper, Chloe Queen wasn’t always out on the scoop like she had been when Hailey was growing up. As a young girl, she remembered the long hours her mother would spend surrounded by papers or typing at her laptop. She always had time for her daughter, but her newest mystery was always just waiting to be solved. Weekends were always family time, no matter what the world was up to. Both of her parents put away their stacks of paper to spend time with their kids. Her mom would unplug her laptop and give her the chord to hide wherever she wanted just to be sure that she didn’t give in to the urge to work.

Hailey had once wanted to be just like her mom, but then she realized how dangerous it was and she never wanted to have a hospital record as large as hers. She also never wanted to see that look on her dad’s face that was always shown when he got the call from SC General that her mom was injured (again). The fear and terror and stoic expression that only slipped when it came to his wife… She’d never had anything happen to her that caused that reaction from her dad. There were scrapes on the knee and bumps on the head, and one time she sprained her wrist. She’d even fallen out of a tree a time or two. But never anything life threatening. Her dad always greeted her with a grin and a ruffle of her hair as he kissed her forehead. “ Battle scars,” he’d tell her whenever she got hurt. But when it was her mom who was in the hospital, he was never anything but scared out of his mind. He tried to put the usual veneer of being strong and confident and sure of the outcome. But she could read his face, maybe not as well as her mom, but she saw the fear in his eyes.

Growing up, she could honestly say that she’d never worried about falling into that ‘kids with divorced parents’ category. She knew her parents loved each other. They had their fights, of course. They were such stubborn and strong willed people. And when her mom got hurt, it was as if another tally had been drawn on the board for reasons her dad wanted her to get out of the business. He never came right out and said he wanted her to quit. He understood how in love she was with her writing. But it was obvious that every time she left for some fresh mystery, he was just waiting for the phone to ring. She’d seen them, a million times, late at night as her mom finally came back. Her dad would spring up from the couch, where he’d been waiting all along. He’d try to act like he wasn’t worried, like he hadn’t been pacing or staring at the phone, but she always knew. And she’d just hug him; hold him tightly and remind him that she was there, she was solid, and she wasn’t ever leaving him.

Hailey never quite understood why her mom acted the same way with her dad though. Some days she’d be extra tentative around him. He’d have some random bruise or scrape that there was no real explanation behind. They’d tell her the old “loose nail somewhere” line but she knew it was something else. She’d grown up an investigative reporter’s daughter; she knew when something wasn’t right. Her father was the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, so he shouldn’t be returning home with bruises or bandages. It just didn’t make sense. During her younger years, she didn’t pay it much attention, but as she got older she began to wonder. Why did he go out every night? Where did he go? Why did he only use his bike during his late night excursions?

The possibility that he was fooling around with some other woman never even entered her mind. She’d never seen two people love each other as much as her parents. Her aunt and uncle, Lois and Clark, were a close second. But when her parents were together… There was just something about them. She’d asked them once, how they got together. “Work,” they’d say and no more. So she asked her Uncle Bart and he’d always get an oddly reminiscent expression on his face. “I used to crush on your mom like crazy once,” he’d remind her. As if she didn’t know. He still flirted harmlessly with her from time to time. “What could’ve been…” he’d tell her. But he never explained how her mom and dad really met.

She knew they dated three years before marrying and didn’t have her for another two. So, all in all, they’d been together a total of… Math wasn’t her best subject. Twenty one years. At her age, she couldn’t really imagine being with the same person that long. They were still just as affectionate as they’d been when she was a kid. Always touching, cuddling, kissing and whispering when they thought no one was looking. And he still looked at her the same way he did when Hailey was just a little girl and she’d see them together. There was a pride and adoration in his eyes that he reserved solely for her. And just like him, her mother shared those same feelings, those same expressions when she looked up at him. She’d seen pictures of them when they were younger; in the prime of their lives. When he still looked like the debonair Queen billionaire that had woman falling at his feet in want. He was a family man now; a father and a husband. He coached little league baseball and was on the PTA. He helped her little brothers with science fair projects and never let her date boys more than a year older than her. Even then, he wanted to meet them, their parents, and every relation they had. He was an overprotective, arrogant, serious, stoic and work oriented man that held his wife in high regard and his children with the most love and pride a father could have.

But the man she knew as her father had a completely other life she hadn’t known existed until only a few hours prior. She remembered vividly the moment she realized her father was not just some boring CEO that lived off billions of dollars. He was so much more than that. She’d been walking home from a movie; some D list horror flick that wasn’t worth the ten bucks she paid to see it. Her friends went to a party but she wasn’t interested, so instead she decided to walk the half hour trip home. It was late and she should’ve called home for a ride, but it was a nice night out and she felt like enjoying the fresh air. Her heels clicked loudly in the silent emptiness of the street and a chill ran down her spine. She looked around with furrowed brows and tugged her coat tighter. She felt like someone was watching her; following her.

Her feet sped up and her heat began to race with fear. She dug around in her purse as inconspicuously as she could and found her cell phone, dialing one and pressing send. She hoped her mom would pick up and lifted it to her ear. Within seconds, her cell phone had flown out of her hand and crashed against the pavement, shattering into a million little pieces. She’d mourn it later (it cost her four months worth of extra chores, baby sitting and saved up allowance!). She was a little too preoccupied with the angry guy pushing her up against the wall and waving a knife at her threateningly.

“Gimme all your money, bitch,” he shouted at her. Spittle escaped his mouth, sliding grotesquely down his whiskered chin.

“I- I don’t have any,” she sputtered. Her dad made her keep all her money on her debit card for safekeeping.

He pulled her forward and then slammed her back against the wall, eyes irate as they glared at her. “Yeah right. Rich bitch like you. I know who you are,” he spat, shifting around on his feet and looking around worriedly. “Empty your purse out!”

She could feel fear shaking her right to her bones. Her heart was pounding in her ears, tears building in her eyes.

“NOW!” he yelled at her and she nodded, blinking rapidly so not to let him see her cry.

“O-Okay,” she said, jaw quivering. She lifted her bag and pulled it open, her shaking hands searching around for something, anything, to give him so he’d let her go. Her hair fell over her face in chunks. Her mom had taken her out to get a new hair cut and she’d gotten it layered, the long white-blonde strands falling to just below her jaw. She blinked her green eyes rapidly and swallowed tightly. Her dad always said she had her mom’s looks, she supposed that didn’t help her in that moment. He appeared to know who she was. She lifted a hand and pushed her hair behind her ear, trying to steady her breathing as she kept pushing things around in her large bag. God, why’d she have so much junk? Make-up, iPod, earrings, more make-up, a pen, Christopher’s soccer card, blackberry that died three days ago, an extra pair of socks that her dad told her could one day come in handy (she rolled her eyes), tampons, her little brother’s G.I Joe that he told her was for good luck, a few random phone numbers written on chunks of paper, Adam and Jake’s baseball cards, a saran wrapped stack of cookies that her mom gave her, a half-off coupon for McDonalds, her friendship bracelet with her best friend Josie, chapstick, a bottle of water… Why was her purse so damn big?

“Stop stalling!” her attacker yelled, startling her as he waved his knife around and nearly cut her cheek in the process.

She yanked her head back, staring at him with large, fearful eyes. “Please, I don’t have anything. I’m sorry,” she cried.

He reached out, yanking her purse from her and spilling half of its contents in the process. Hailey bit her lip. What would he do when he realized there was nothing to take?

He kicked around the stuff on the ground, staring at it with anger. “What is all this shit? Where’s the cash? The gold jewelry?”

“She’s wealthy, not stupid,” a deep voice interrupted.

Hailey’s eyes lifted to stare shockingly at the tall man dressed head to toe in green leather.

A second later, however, her attention swayed to the greasy looking man next to her, whose arm raised, knife turning in her direction and nicking her chin. She felt it piece her skin and whimpered. Just as quickly, the new arrival had her attacker pinned to the wall, an arrow pierced through his shoulder, forcing him to show weakness and cry out in pain.

Green Arrow, a man she knew only through her mother’s approving articles stepped forward, paying her no heed, his attention entirely on the squirming man. He held his bow in one white-knuckled hand, muscles rippling in his arms. “It’s not nice to prey on helpless little girls,” he said, mouth set in a firm line.

“She’s a Queen. She could afford it,” the man told him, panting and sweating as he tried to yank his arm away from its pained prison.

“She has money and that makes it okay for you to attack her?” He sounded so calm, but the distorter he must be wearing barely hid the sharp tone he was using.

Her attacker sneered. “So she got a little scared. I’m sure daddy’ll buy her a pony to cheer her up!”

A green gloved hand reached out toward her, delicately wiping away a trickle of blood from her jaw and brought it back toward the man. “And this? What will her dad give her for her injury?”

The man snickered, nose flaring.

Green Arrow lifted his bow, the tip of his arrow pressing against the jugular of her attacker. He gulped, lifting his chin as if to get away from the pressure. “Maybe I should return the favor.”

“Please, I just needed some money. I- I didn’t mean to hurt her. I… Please,” he whimpered, no longer the vicious and foul man who’d acted as though he wasn’t afraid.

Green Arrow didn’t let up and for a moment, Hailey was pretty sure he really was going to kill the man before her. While some part of her couldn’t help but think he deserved it for going around and attacking people with knives, she’d learned from her parents that murder was never the answer. That justice could be found in other ways than how it was often portrayed in movies and television. She reached out, her hand shaking as it landed on Green Arrow’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m fine. He… He’s not worth it.”

His head turned slightly, acknowledging her.

“Yeah, I’m not worth it,” the man told him, staring pleadingly up into the covered eyes of her savior.

He pulled back, his bow returning to his side, but just as her attacker breathed a sigh of relief, he received a punishing blow to the side of his face. Green Arrow had used the force behind his elbow to knock him unconscious. He then pulled out a small handheld thingamabob that she didn’t understand and pressed a button. A red light flashed a few times before turning green and with a slight smile, he hid it away in his belt and turned to her. Without saying a word, he gripped her arm rather tightly and walked quickly out of the alleyway she’d been forced into. She knew she should probably be a little wary, but she couldn’t quite summon the fear. He had, after all, just saved her life.

As he came to a halt, he turned to her, his features lit by the street lamp behind them. She stood in confusion as he began pacing, hands on his hips in a gesture that quite reminded her of her father when he was waiting for her mother to return. Finally, he stopped and turned to her, lifting a hand, his forefinger raised as if to make a point. His mouth opened but then closed and finally he lifted a hand and flicked something off at his neck. A second later, he’d taken off his sunglasses and thrown back his hood. “What were you thinking?” he asked, in a voice that sounded far less distorted than the man before.

Her mouth gaped open. Green Arrow was… Her dad?

“Dad,” she sputtered.

“It’s nearly one in the morning, Hailey. You should have called home! Your mom would’ve picked you up!” He lifted an arm, apparently not at all uncomfortable with the fact that he was dressed in all leather and playing Green Arrow at night without letting her or her brothers know anything about it. “She must be worried sick,” he exclaimed, voice raising. “You know the rules. Never go anywhere alone!”

“I- I know. I just…” She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it all and so she was having a hard time coming to grips with what was going on.

“You could’ve been killed. That guy could’ve…” He trailed off a moment and she raised her eyes to look at him. Her brow furrowed. He’d never looked at her that way. As if he might lose her; really and truly lose her. That look was reserved for his wife; a woman who was constantly in danger. “There are rules for a reason,” he said, voice shaking as he tried to keep up his strong persona.

“I know,” she whispered.

“You could’ve gotten hurt. He could’ve…” He couldn’t say it. He never had been able to.

Even with her mother, he’d always let it trail off. “ _You could’ve… We can’t lose you…_ ”

She’d never expected to see that look on his face, not for her. He’d always been so blasé about her little injuries. As if she could never really get into these situations. Then again, he’d done all he could to keep her away from the possibility. They’d had a buddy system in tact since her birth, practically. She was never supposed to be alone. She always had her cell with her she was supposed to call home every hour, on the hour unless she was staying at a friend’s overnight. She was never allowed to bike ride or rollerblade without a helmet, shoulder and knee pads. Her first swimming lesson, she was wearing more floaties than the rest of the class combined. He let her go to public school, but then he had a metal detector put in for “the entire school’s safety.” He had a background check done on everyone she came in contact with; teachers, friends, random strangers on the street. He had the resources and he was using them. If he could’ve talked her into getting a tracking device put inside of her, he probably would have.

“I’m okay,” she told him. And following in her mother’s footsteps, she wrapped her arms around him tightly and hugged him. Her eyes built up with tears. More now because the whole reality of it all fell down. She really had almost died. A man wielding a knife had attacked her!

His arms wrapped around her, gripping her strongly and she felt the protection behind her father’s embrace multiply ten times in that moment.

“I-I’m sorry,” she cried, sniffling against his chest.

“Shh,” he murmured, stroking your hair. “Daddy’s got you.”

She nodded, burying her face against him. He smelled like leather and she giggled slightly. “I can’t believe you’re Green Arrow,” she said, her shoulders shaking with a mixture of laughter and tears.

He squeezed her momentarily. “Few know.”

“Mom does though, right?” she asked, pulling back slightly and looking up at him with red rimmed green eyes and a tear streaked face.

His mouth quirked on one side. “You really think I could keep something like this from her? She had me found out after only meeting me once or twice.”

Hailey laughed, nodding. “That’s mom.”

He smiled fondly. “Yeah.” He looked around, sighing. “You have to be more careful.”

“I know.” She lifted a hand, wiping at her face and stepping back from. “I will.”

He stared at her, face stoic now and then he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her forward. He ruffled her hair and kissed her cheek before tracing a glove covered thumb over the nick on her chin. “Just another battle scar,” he told her softly.

It was more reassuring than she thought it would be.

He flipped his hood back up then and returned his sunglass to his face. “Come on, I better get you home to your mom before she has a fit.”

She smiled lightly and followed after him. His bike was hidden away around a corner and she climbed on the back, using him as a shield against the wind whipping around her. She felt sick to her stomach when they reached home. She decided then and there she hated anything without doors. He followed her inside, shedding his sunglasses once more. She watched him grin as her mother came down the stairs knowingly. Her hair was thrown up in a lopsided ponytail and she had a green bathrobe tied around her as she rubbed at her face tiredly. “Back already?” she asked sleepily.

“Ran into a small problem,” he replied, lifting a brow as he turned to his youngest daughter.

Her mother came to a sudden halt at the bottom of the stairs and she stared wide eyed at her eldest child for a moment. “What happened?” she asked, suddenly rushing across the floor. She spotted the cut on her chin immediately and her face clouded with anger. “Who did that?” Her voice was raw and vicious and Hailey would’ve flinched had she not known it was meant for someone else.

“I took care of it,” Oliver assured.

His wife turned to him, expression severe. “Arrow to the jugular I hope.”

Hailey couldn’t help it, she laughed. “You guys know each other waaay too well.” She shook her head before shedding her jacket and kicking her shoes off. “I don’t know about you, but I’m seriously tired. I just had the _weirdest_ night of my life.” She sighed. “I’ve been attacked, my dad’s Green Arrow and my mom was actually voting for murder.” She shrugged with a slight laugh. “Next you’ll tell me Uncle Clark is Superman and mom’s a secret liaison for the Justice League.” With an amused snicker, she hugged her mom, a little longer than really needed, and gave her dad a peck on the cheek. “Thank you, I love you, and I will see you late tomorrow morning.” She walked backwards toward the stairs. “Just so you know, I can never listen to my girlfriends gush about how hot Green Arrow is ever again without wanting to vomit.”

Her dad laughed while her mother rolled her eyes.

“Night sweetie,” her mom said before turning back to her dad. “Love you too.”

“Sweet dreams, baby girl,” her dad called out to her as she hurried up the stairs.

It was as she reached the top that she remembered she wanted to ask her dad if he might buy her a new cell phone. After all, if he wanted to keep tabs on her, she was going to need something more high tech; preferably with a camera and limitless minutes. She stepped back down and opened her mouth to ask, but went silent as she watched her parents embrace. Her dad held onto her mom tightly, his head buried in her shoulder and one of his hands buried in her hair.

“She’s okay,” she could hear her mom whispering soothingly.

He nodded slightly, holding onto her as tight as he could.

It was when her dad’s hands ventured beneath her mom’s bathrobe and his mouth attached to her neck that she turned around and left. She’d just bring up the cell phone in the morning. It was obvious her parents needed some time alone. Even if she was the one who’d been rather traumatized, she knew her dad was hurting too. He’d spent all of her life trying to make his “baby girl” as safe as could be. He’d taken care of the world and her hometown for decades, with no face-to-face acknowledgement. And still, she was almost killed. Hero or not, he couldn’t save everyone. But he probably hadn’t expected his daughter to ever be a target. Or maybe it was that he feared she might be one that when it finally happened, he was faced with the reality of it all.

She sighed, climbing into her pajamas and beneath the covers of her bed. She couldn’t fall asleep though and spent the next few hours thinking it all through. One minute, her dad had been like any other and the next she was coming to the startling realization that he was anything but. She couldn’t quite reconcile the two people just yet. They seemed so different. Green Arrow; a raw vigilante that worked for justice world wide. Defending the weak and triumphing over the corrupt. And then her father; confident and level headed Oliver Queen, the father and husband that epitomized the American dream. Hard working, caring, protective and sweet. But the two were the same, she knew that now. Everybody else would see him as one or the other, but to her, he was her dad, the hero. With that, she closed her eyes and drifted off. There was no reason to ever be afraid. He’d always be there to save her.


	50. My Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing got past her.

Oliver was feeling pretty good about himself. They’d brought down their sixth of Lex’s 33.1 warehouses, they had a lock on another one, the rest of the Justice League were all hanging around in deep discussion while waiting for a couple extra large pizza’s while his girlfriend of a year was making coffee. A gift basket sat on the counter and he made his way over to the brightly wrapped gift with ribbons and sheer yellow plastic wrap around it. The top of the card said “St. John’sChurch sends its thanks.” He knew he’d given a large charitable donation to the church recently, so his suspicion meter didn’t go off. He tugged the ribbon loose to see what goodies lie inside. It was best to get what he could before Bart spotted them or there’d be nothing for anybody else. As if knowing what he was doing, Chloe walked over and stood against his side, covering the basket from Impulse’s view. She picked up the card and her vivid green eyes read the note as she sipped her coffee.

A bundle of cookies were calling his name and he grinned as he reached out for one. He was momentarily distracted as he watched Chloe’s tongue trail over her lips to lick away the remaining droplets of dark brew but then remembered he was surrounded by the rest of the League and it wasn’t the time to enjoy the intimacy they had now that they were living together. She was already dressed up in her pale green pajama pants and tank top that fit nicely around her top, accenting the curves of her breasts. He wondered if she’d be annoyed if he brought out her bathrobe. He’d already noticed Bart’s eyes following her and that was only tonight. Ever since she moved in, she was getting more comfortable with what she wore so if Victor, AC or Bart stopped by early, it wasn’t unusual to get an eyeful of barely clothed Chloe. They weren’t complaining, but that wasn’t as comforting as one might think.

Forcing his eyes back to the cookies, he reached out and plucked on from the basket, lifting it toward his mouth. It was perfectly browned and felt moist in his hand. His mouth watered. When was the last time he’d had a homemade cookie? He couldn’t remember. Just as the cookie would’ve made contact with his mouth, it was thrown out of his hand abruptly.

He blinked, rather jarred by the suddenness of it all. His eyes turned toward the pixie-like blonde standing next to him as if nothing happened. “Uh, I was planning on _eating_ that, Sidekick,” he said, glancing rather morosely at the broken cookie on the floor.

She simply sipped her coffee, lifting a shoulder. “It had peanuts in it,” she said nonchalantly.

His eyebrows rose and his mouth drew up in a grin. Usually, he was the one going out of his way to save the unsuspecting victims. It was a nice change. “My hero,” he said, leaning down toward her.

Her mouth quirked with a smile as his chin landed on her shoulder and she turned her gaze down toward him. “Is there a reward?” she asked, low and suggestive.

Just another reason he loved her; that playful wit of hers.

With a slight laugh, he raised his head and captured her mouth.

Vaguely, he could hear the rest of the League groaning. They were probably getting tired of these moments. He kissed her deeper instead of pulling away. Hey, she’d saved him a trip to the hospital, if not _death_. She deserved every last minute he spent caressing her lips with his; arms wrapped around her tightly, body molded against hers. It wasn’t until the ding of the elevator shattered their moment that he realized he’d gotten a little _too_ wrapped up in her. As he parted from her mouth, breathing heavily, he smiled, licking his lips as he watched her blink rapidly, trying to rid herself of her dazed expression.

“Sweet pizza’s here,” Bart exclaimed, getting up from the couch to run toward the elevator. He slowed near them. “Hey, what’s in the basket?”

Oliver laughed, shaking his head. Well, there goes that gift. He wrapped an arm around Chloe’s shoulder and leaned back against the counter. He still came out the victor in the end.


	51. Wavelengths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was airing out secrets left right and center.

When they found him, he was completely sedated. There were blue lines running through patches of his skin that spiked and blinked randomly, like a chart of some kind. He had no hair; anywhere. No eye lashes, no whiskers, not even any nose hair; head to toe hairlessness, with skin the color of gold. His chest rose and fell on its own, so they knew he was breathing. There was no heart monitor, but there was a small red light that seemed to follow his heartbeat, sitting slightly to the left over his chest, embedded in his skin. They figured he was another 33.1 project and freed him as quickly as they could. Still comatose, they had Clark take him back to headquarters and he was laid out on the couch when the rest of the team arrived back.

Bart was eating a pudding cup, watching the man that couldn’t have been too much older than them sleep without so much as twitching. Victor stood cross-armed, eyes thinned, and contemplative expression in place. Clark was trying not to stare, while uncomfortable shifting around in the arm chair (much to his wife’s chagrin as she kept telling him to sit still), waiting for somebody to say something. AC was drinking a tall glass of water and leaning next to the fish tank silently. All the while, Chloe and Oliver stood next to each other, Oliver slightly ahead of her, as if ready to shield her should the current inhabiter of the couch decide to spring forward in attack. They gazed down at him with twin expressions of curiosity.

“Maybe we should wake him up,” Chloe said quietly, eyes turning up to Oliver. “We have those smelling salts.”

He frowned, shaking his head. “I’m surprised he hasn’t woken up yet. I don’t want to jar him.”

“Well, it’s late. If we all go to bed, he’s going to wake up in a weird place, all alone and completely disoriented,” she replied, chewing her lip. Her brow furrowed. “We could sleep in shifts,” she suggested.

“Last time we did that only Chloelicious got to use the bed,” Bart whined, not at all quiet. “The table was uncomfortable.”

“You could’ve used the chair,” Oliver told him, rolling his eyes.

“I still don’t see why _mamacita_ and I couldn’t share,” he replied, nodding his head and grinning suggestively at Chloe, who rolled her eyes, snorting in amusement.

“I didn’t want crumbs in my sheets.” Oliver lifted a brow at him. “I thought I told you no more eating around the house. Kitchen only.”

He shrugged, “That’s boring.”

“Well waking me up by raining down half eaten sandwich on my face wasn’t the _highlight_ of my day,” Chloe reminded.

“Hey, that reminds me. Why were you here this morning?” Bart wondered, head cocked to one side.

“Late night,” she said with a shrug as she crossed her arms and returned her attention to the sleeping man.

“I would’ve given you a ride!” He lifted his brows a few times.

“Impulse,” Oliver sighed.

He simply laughed before going back to his pudding.

“You’ve been having a lot of those,” Clark mentioned, turning to her with a concerned expression. “If all of the extra work is becoming a problem…”

She shook her head. “It’s not. I just had a few things to catch up on lately. Don’t worry.” She smiled reassuringly. “Oliver’s bed has like a 15,000 thread count in those Egyptian puppies. I sleep like a baby.”

“How come when I stay over I have to camp out in the living room?” Bart complained.

Oliver gave him with a withering look that explained it all.

The rest of the League laughed, shaking their heads.

Four years they’d all been working together and the League had grown quite close. Their working relationship and friendships had stayed in tact through missions and regular life. Oliver stood as best man while Clark married Lois and took on the role of godfather to Victor and Jennifer’s first daughter, Natasha. The League had grown exponentially, but he still worked mostly with the same group. They’d sectioned off to different parts of the world and the band of brothers that had started it all were still going strong. Now with a little female power behind it as well. Dinah had gone to work with Bruce Wayne in Gotham and surrounding cities while Chloe stayed on as Watchtower with the original group, oftentimes getting into the action while Lois took up the comm. from Oliver’s apartment. In fact, she was currently nursing a large mug of coffee while sitting in her husband’s lap. She was long past being weirded out by odd looking men like the one before them.

The mission had gone well. A few minor glitches that were easily bypassed and the 33.1 warehouse was quickly evacuated and then destroyed. It was what they’d call a success and upon returning home with the only inhabiter, they were at a standstill at what to do.

“Well I’m tired,” Lois announced through a yawn as she ran her fingers through her hair. “I vote Clark and I take the bed while Chlo and Ollie take the first watch.”

“What about the rest of us?” Bart asked, licking his spoon of chocolate pudding and grabbing a Jell-O cup next. Strawberry-kiwi, his favorite.

She shrugged. “Table’s free.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “You two are _not_ staying in my bed.”

She sighed, slumping back against her husband’s solid chest and snuggling against him. “I said I was tired, Queen. Not frisky.”

He frowned. “I’m not taking any chances.”

AC raised his arm, checking his watch. “I have a rally tomorrow morning, bright and early.”

“I’m supposed to be in home by now,” Victor announced, slightly chagrined.

“Is there any popcorn left?” Bart wondered.

“So why does Chloe get to keep extra clothes here and I don’t?” Lois asked, balancing her head on her palm while her elbow sat against the back of the chair, over Clark’s shoulder.

“I only have _one_ closet,” Oliver told her pointedly.

“And most of it is full of Chloe’s stuff!” She threw up an arm. “Sorry cuz, but now that you’re out playing red leather to his green, I spend waaay too much time in this tower and I’m tired of wearing the same thing the next day,” she harrumphed.

“So bring a spare set of clothes when you come over.” Oliver shrugged. “Or get Superman to fly home and get you something.”

“I’m just saying, it’d be a lot easier if I could just set up a little place for my stuff.” Lois rolled her eyes.

“You’re only here a few days out of the month,” Oliver reminded in exasperation. “And that’s when we’re in town!”

“Well I’d keep some stuff in StarCity too except there’s no room! Chloe takes up half of the closet there too!”

“Exactly _why_ are you going in his closet?” Chloe queried, nose scrunching with confusion.

Lois’ mouth closed abruptly. “No reason. Just exploring.”

“Closets?” Chloe lifted a brow.

“Hey, this isn’t interrogate Lois time, it’s convince Oliver to let Lois keep extra stuff here.” She crossed her arms over her chest, barely sparing Clark a smile as he took her teetering mug of coffee from her hand before it scalded her. “If Chloe can do it, why can’t I?”

“She’s here more than you are.”

“So is Bart and he’s not even allowed to go in your room!” she exclaimed.

Oliver turned his eyes up before closing them and rubbing at the crease between his brows. “Is this really the time for this conversation?”

“Of course. Who knows what’ll happen tomorrow. You might jet off with my little cousin again and not return for another month or three.” She frowned. “I have a lot to say and I don’t know how much time I have.”

Clark tried to hide his laugh behind his hand but failed.

“Are you always so active?” a deep voice asked.

The room turned silent before their gaze moved toward the man whose eyes were now open. He sat up slowly, expressionless and stiff. His head turned toward them, dark eyes turning from one person to the next.

“Uh, active?” Chloe asked, smiling slightly in confusion.

“Your waves are all over the place. There are so many of you it is hard to keep up,” he said in his monotone, robotic voice.

“Our… waves?” Lois asked, lifting a brow.

“Do you have a name?” Oliver wondered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Name,” he repeated. “I do not believe so.”

The League looked around at each other.

“Can you tell us anything about yourself? How you arrived at Luthorcorp?” Chloe queried.

“Arrived… I was… _made_ in Luthorcorp. I am not entirely of human descent.”

“All right, you wanna explain a little more then?” Lois said, leaning forward.

“I am not sure of the exact happenings. When I awoke, I could feel people.”

“Feel them how?”

“I knew what they had done, how they were feeling. I process such things and Mr. Luthor uses them in his business gains.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed. “How? Can you show us?”

He nodded abruptly before turning and staring off in deep thought, the blue lines throughout his skin suddenly lighting up and seemingly moving like electric bolts throughout him.

“The African American man, he is part computer. He is approximately twenty seven years old. He has a wife and a child. He is very intelligent, enjoys sports, and is anxious to return home to his daughter. He loves his work but partially hates what had to happen to him to give him the ability to do it. He cares for everyone in this room, myself discluded, as a brother or a sister.”

Victor shifted around rather uncomfortably at how dead on the description was. He’d been itching to get home to his daughter since he started work.

The gold man turned suddenly, eyes centering on AC. “The man by the fish sustains his life with water more than most humans. He has very strong beliefs and sticks by them. He has dated one of the females in this room but is currently seeing someone that he can see a happy future with. He considers all of you to be heroes.”

AC smiled slightly, brow furrowed.

Again, his head turned, stopping on Clark. “An alien life form. Stronger than all humans, faster than all but one, virtually impenetrable. Often quite confused about what his destiny is, but wants only good for the world and does what he can to provide it. Currently married to the woman in his lap.” His eyes turned toward Lois. “Strong minded, opinionated, risky, very much in love with her husband. Cares deeply for her cousin. Uses humor and confidence to hide insecurities. Currently three and a half months pregnant.” The room gasped, but the man didn’t hear them, his attention moving to Bart.

“Fastest man alive; eats more than an average family can. Is self conscious about his height but works hard to hide it. He is attracted to the short blonde woman and wants to mate with her.” Bart flushed, but again the man had no understanding.

He turned toward Chloe and Oliver. “The Leader; stoic, confident, level headed and organized. But he often feels somewhat inferior given that he is entirely human. Trains hard daily, works to maintain himself to the best of his abilities. Always trying to be better, to prove himself.” He paused for a moment, seemingly scanning him with his eyes. “He is mating with the blonde female. Has been for approximately eleven months, seven days, fourteen hours and six minutes. She is his most treasured person.”

Everyone’s eyes turned toward Chloe. “Intelligent, quick witted, spontaneous and caring. Loyal to the deepest part. She is tainted with a power she did not want, but has been very useful to those she loves. Keeps many secrets that often get her in danger. Has broken approximately seventeen bones. Sprained her wrist and/or ankle six times. Lacerations are at a high level and she has died five times. Too curious for her own good, but always on the lookout for truth.” He blinked suddenly. “Would lay down her life for anyone in this room. Especially the leader who she loves very deeply.”

The room went completely quiet.

Bart cleared his throat. “Neat trick.”

The gold man turned to him. “It is not a trick. Would you like me to prove myself further?”

“No!” they called out rather loudly.

He simply nodded. “You can understand why my ability might help Mr. Luthor.” He showed no remorse, though he didn’t show much of any emotion. “Do you believe it could be used for something better?”

Oliver frowned grimly. “I hope so.”

His head bobbed in agreement. “I am very weary. I must shut down now.”

“Tomorrow, we’ll bring you somewhere safe.” Oliver sighed. “Somewhere you won’t be used as a weapon.”

“I would like that.” He laid back down on the couch and closed his eyes, going completely still once more.

Oliver walked away from the couch, Chloe and the rest of the League following him into his office. They were all entirely quiet until the door closed.

“You’re pregnant!” Chloe exclaimed, turning toward Lois.

“You’re banging Ollie?” Lois returned, eyes wide.

“Dude!” Bart half-shouted.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anybody,” Victor mentioned to AC calmly.

He shrugged. “We’ve only been going out a few months, but… She gets me.”

“You think they’d be mad if I headed home?”

He shook his head. “They’re a little absorbed right now.”

“Did you know about her and Oliver?”

“I suspected,” AC admitted, nodding.

“Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He clapped his shoulder before leaving the room, smiling as he walked to the elevator. It was late, but his Natasha would be waking her mom up soon to be fed.

“I asked you if there was anything going on between you and Chloe,” Clark reminded, crossing his arms and glaring darkly at Oliver, who stood firmly in front of him.

“That was a year ago. Nothing _was_ going on then!” he defended.

“And you didn’t think to inform us after _eleven months_?”

“You know, I was starting to wonder when I found you in his bed the last few weeks. But I was gonna give you the benefit of the doubt.” Bart sighed before sidling up to Chloe. “Your loss, Chiquita,” with that, he was off and gone.

The room was quiet for only a moment before Oliver sighed, looking over to Chloe who stepped back from Lois and moved to his side. “We were waiting for the right time. We’ve been in and out of Metropolis a lot these last few months,” she told her cousin.

“Wait, so all of her stuff… It’s in your closet because you live together now, don’t you?” Lois’ brows raised in surprise.

“Since awhile ago,” Oliver admitted, lifting a shoulder slightly. His hand sat comfortably on Chloe’s far hip, thumb stroking her over her skirt seemingly unknowingly.

AC simply shook his head before slipping out of the room. He wondered how annoyed his girlfriend might be if he dropped in.

“Wait, wait, wait. You can’t get angry at us for not saying anything. You two are having a baby!” Chloe said, expression wide with surprise. “That’s a little bigger in the grand scheme of things, isn’t it?”

“I dunno, cuz. I mean, I thought we told each other everything boy related. I mean I told you when Clark and I kept making out randomly, didn’t I?”

“Unfortunately,” Chloe sighed.

“And I told you about that pregnancy scare a couple years ago!”

Chloe squirmed, nodding slightly.

“ _And_ I told you when Superman kissed me and I felt bad because I liked it and I thought I was cheating on Clark!” she said heatedly, her voice raising.

“Okay, okay, I should have told you. I’m sorry!” Chloe threw her hand up in surrender. “There was just a lot going on. With League work and freelancing and traveling, there hasn’t been a lot of time to sit down with you guys and talk about this.”

“Well, that’s why we didn’t tell you about the baby yet,” Clark admitted, frowning.

“So we’re all at fault here,” Chloe decided, nodding.

“Hey, I said we should just e-mail them,” Oliver reminded.

Chloe slapped his chest as he laughed.

“Yeah, right. Great memo: Watchtower and Green Arrow are shacking up. Pass it on.” Lois rolled her eyes. With a frown, she turned back to her cousin. “We obviously have _a lot_ of catching up to do.”

Oliver and Clark groaned.

Chloe smiled, looking up at them in amusement. “Not tonight. Preggers over here should get off her feet and into bed!” She hugged her cousin, rubbing her stomach with excitement. “We’ll have lunch tomorrow and you can tell me _alllllll_ about superbaby.”

Lois grinned. “Yup and you can tell me _alllll_ about your and Ollie’s hot fling!”

Clark wrapped an arm around his wife and directed her to the door. “Let’s go!”

“So easily embarrassed,” she muttered with a sigh.

The two waved goodbye and left toward the elevator, their bickering mixed banter could still be heard until the steel doors closed and the shaft lowered toward the bottom floor.

Chloe turned to Oliver, a slight smile on her face and a brow lifted. “Most treasured person, huh?” she teased, a twinkle in her eye.

Clearing his throat, he turned around, shuffling a few papers on his desk in avoidance. “Must be a glitch or something.”

She snickered, shaking her head. “Nice save, Queen. Way to make a girl feel loved.”

His hands stilled and he slowly lifted his head. “Does the girl want to be loved?”

She half-smiled, turning toward him and letting her arms drop, one hand reaching out and taking his, their fingers twining. “What do you think?”

He tugged her closer, his thumb stroking her palm. “We never really identified this, you know?”

“I figured moving in was all the explanation needed,” she told him, resting her chin against his chest and looking up at him.

He lifted his free hand, brushing her bangs from her face and caressing her temple with his thumb. He licked his lips. “Maybe it wasn’t a glitch.”

She smiled lightly.

Leaning down, he nuzzled his nose against hers. “I ever tell you I love you, Sidekick?”

She grinned. “Nope.”

He smirked. “I’ll try to fit in between making you whimper and making you scream,” he whispered, his hands sliding down her body and tugging at the skirt she’d changed back into after the mission. It bunched at her hips and his fingers slid lower, knuckles running softly over the sensitive skin of her butt, making her knees quake and her back arch. Her breasts pressed against his chest and her head fell back. Her hands rose up his chest before twining in his hair, nails scraping the back of his neck teasingly. He lifted her up and her legs wrapped tight around his waist, thighs squeezing.

Their mouths hovered mere inches from each other, eyes locked. “You promise?” she asked lowly, lips almost meeting his.

“Promise.” His long fingers slid beneath the lacey fabric of her panties and with ease he’d long past mastered, he tore them apart and let them fall forgotten to the floor.

“This is why Victoria’s Secret loves me,” she murmured, her mouth quirking with a smile.

Her grin faded as his hands slid up the back of her thighs, thumbs stroking her sensitive flesh. With a knowing smirk, he quickly brought them to their bedroom, slamming the door behind them. He _always_ kept his promises.


	52. Only to Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, he had the _worst_ timing.

 

Three and a half years into her work as Watchtower and Chloe Sullivan couldn’t be happier with her life at large. There were up and downs; her boys often got hurt while out on missions, but they always came back alive. Not everything went according to plan, there were unfortunate casualties. But she felt as if every day, she and the team were doing the very best to keep the world as safe as they could. They’d shut down an uncountable number of 33.1 warehouses while simultaneously taking on the rest of the world as well. It was never easy, but it was worth it.

She had a large mug of coffee in front of her, her comm. in her ear and the schematics to their latest target overhead. They were coming out of this one alive and well, too. It was her job, after all, to keep them safe and alert. They didn’t always make it easy. When they got bored doing recon, they talked about whatever was on their minds. With Bart it was usually flirting, with Victor it was often him asking her about her latest big hack, AC liked to tell her about his next rally for the fishes, while Oliver tried to remind them to stay on task. Still, as odd as the whole set up sometimes was, she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

True, her dream job at the Daily Planet fell through, for her anyway. She wished Lois all the best, but it just wasn’t her place anymore. She belonged behind the large steel desk at QueenTowers, watching over the world like she was meant to do. With the information at her fingertips and the heroes at her disposal; waiting for their directions. The League had grown over the years, but she still worked with her main boys. There were various outfits all over the world, all answering to Oliver, but working on their own while their leader did what he could, where he could.

She wiggled her toes inside of her fluffy slippers and wondered who fiddled with the heat. With no sign of danger in reach for any of her boys, she stood up and hurried toward the wall dial to turn it up a bit. She was back in her seat so quickly, not even Bart had really moved from his position.

“Watchtower to Green Arrow, where’s my favorite throw blanket?” she queried, frowning.

Seriously, it was freezing!

She heard her boyfriend of two and a half years sigh and she just knew he was shaking his head in amusement. “You’re sitting on it. Rosie folded it and left it where you like.”

“Huh…” She stood up and pulled her handmade quilt out to toss over her legs. “I thought we fired Rosie?”

“No I found out it was Lenny that was stealing, not Rosie. So I rehired her and fired Lenny,” he reminded.

“Oh.” She frowned. “But I liked Lenny.”

“He took your favorite earrings, Sidekick,” he told her, his tone betraying his humor.

She scowled. “Jerk. He got what he deserved!”

He laughed; lower than usual due to his distorter. It made her shiver.

She leaned forward, scanning the schematics once more. “Watch your left, Cyborg.”

“Got it.”

Chloe tugged a bag of gummy bears over to her. Odd that it was already out. She usually kept them in the drawer to her left. It’d become a late-night addiction that she had to hide from Bart, given he sussed out candy like no other. She removed every single red one and placed them in a bowl next to her. They were Ollie’s favorite.

“Has anybody come across the records room?” she wondered, leaning back in her chair.

“I think it’s on Level Two,” Bart informed her. “I’ve already ran this whole level three times and I can’t find it.”

She nodded, despite the fact that he couldn’t see her.

“How many guards is that so far?”

“Four for me,” Oliver said.

“Three,” Victor put in.

“Three here too,” AC added.

“Hah, got you all beat. Six here, _mamacita_!” Bart bragged.

She rolled her eyes, her mouth quirking up as she lifted her mug of brew to her lips once more.

“Not everything’s a race,” AC reminded with a sigh.

“You’re just mad ‘cause I beat you,” he replied cockily.

He scoffed. “Why would I be mad?”

“You don’t want to look less manly in front of Watchtower, of course.” He sighed with fake remorse. “You just can’t compare to this, Fishhead.”

She heard Victor snicker and shook her head.

“Eyes on the prize, boys,” Oliver told them in an exasperated tone.

“Whoever gets the most guards gets a kiss from Watchtower when we get back!” Bart exclaimed, completely ignoring Oliver’s chastisement.

“You can’t just market me out like that!” she said, eyes wide with surprise.

“It was just a little incentive!”

She laughed at his ridiculous excuse.

“Seriously, I think it’s time you gave up on her,” AC said through the comm..

“No way! She’ll see the light one day!”

“She’s been dating your boss for almost three years. I think you’re out of the picture, short man,” Victor interceded.

“Until she’s got a ring on her finger, I’m not giving up!” he replied petulantly.

She shook her head. Honestly, it was flattering, but she saw a little brother in Bart and that made it weird.

“You know, he’s got a point Watchtower,” Oliver said.

Chloe lifted a brow, eyes looking over the screen carefully. “Yeah? You think I’ll see the light and leave your green leathered ass?”

He laughed; low and sexy. Her toes curled in her slippers. She couldn’t wait until he got home.

“Actually, I meant more along the ring on your finger part.”

Her eyes widened, smile fizzling from her face.

She was pretty sure every spot on the screen except Oliver’s stopped in shock.

“W-What?” she sputtered. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” she asked uncertainly.

“Proposing over the comm.? Yeah, I think he is,” Victor assured.

She blinked rapidly and considered pinching herself. “Is now the _time_?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Probably the best time,” he said nonchalantly. “Who knows if I’ll return?”

“You can’t _guilt_ her into marrying you,” AC muttered.

“On your right, Aquaman,” she said rather absently.

She heard the squabble loud and clear and could see that AC was winning easily against the guard.

“Say no, _mamacita_! You’re better off with me!” Bart announced loudly.

“Am I clear up ahead?” AC wondered, panting.

“Yes,” she replied.

From Bart’s tone, she knew his brow was furrowed in confusion. “Yes you’ll marry Oliver or yes AC’s clear?”

She sighed. “This is too much.”

“Keep your calm, Watchtower,” Oliver assured in his strong, leader-like voice. “So far there haven’t been any real threats. No sweat.”

“Dude, she was just proposed to by a guy in a building filled with armed guards that want us dead!” Bart reminded.

“Glass half full kind of guy, Impulse?” she asked with an unladylike snort. “I never pegged you that way.”

“Only when it comes to you marrying the wrong hero, baby.”

She rolled her eyes. “Two up ahead, Arrow,” she informed him.

There was a scuffle before Oliver’s heavy breathing surfaced over the comm.. “I’m just saying… Even if it wasn’t live or die, I think we should get married.”

She shook her head, half-smiling. “And when did you decide this?” she wondered.

He took a moment and she could just imagine his expression as he pretended to weigh over what she was sure to be something he’d already thought to say. He was just naturally charming that way. It would probably be her downfall.

“Somewhere in between showering this morning and you putting my gear on for me,” he told her. No doubt grinning from the way he was talking.

The three other Justice League boys groaned; some mixed with amused laughter.

“TMI,” Bart muttered.

“I need a girlfriend,” AC input. “You know anyone, Watchtower?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re going to have to be more clear,” Victor reminded.

She chuckled slightly. “Maybe I know somebody for AC.”

“And what about my proposal?” Oliver asked, clearly unperturbed by the situation at hand. He was currently walking through dangerous territory, his only real eyes on the area blurred by his proposal and he was acting as though he was just taking a stroll.

She lifted her hands, placing them on either side of her face, wide eyes staring at the screen. “I don’t think I’m in the right mind set to answer that…” She bit her lip, running a hand through her hair. “Turn right Cyborg. Three heat sigs to your left, Impulse.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m on it.” And just three seconds later, Bart’s proud voice informed her, “Got ‘em.”

“You’re supposed to operate well under pressure,” Oliver chastised, amusement obvious.

She scoffed. “It’s a little different when we’re talking explosives, guns and die hard missions.”

“As opposed to spending the rest of your life with me?” he asked, sure to be smirking. “Should I be insulted?”

The boys laughed.

She sighed, sipping her coffee. “No. I just mean… I mean can’t we talk about this _later_?” she asked hopefully. This was not the time for the conversation. Not the time or the _place_. They were on a mission for crapsakes! She should be completely focused on her task not thinking of white dresses and how delicious he always looked in a tux. She shook her head, frowning.

“Hold on.” She could hear him fighting in hand-to-hand combat as the two heat signatures could be seen mixing on her screen. “Clear,” he breathed out. “And later’s not an option.”

“Why?” she asked, brows furrowing.

“Because I said so,” he replied easily.

“That’s ridiculous! It’s not even a real excuse!” she exclaimed.

He snorted. “I don’t know why you’re even thinking about it. You know you want to marry me.”

He could be _so_ arrogant sometimes. She frowned. _Why_ did she love that about him? It should be a turn _off._

“Yeah and why would I want to do a thing like that?” She leaned back in her chair, a self satisfied smirk covering her face. “I hear the sex gets boring after marriage.”

He laughed, thick and deep and she could feel it all the way down to her bones. “You don’t _really_ think that’ll happen to us.” He paused, before asking a little deeper, more ran and sensual, “You remember last weekend?”

“Don’t answer that!” Bart told her through the comm..

“This is getting dirty,” AC mentioned. “Does anybody else feel like we’re listening in?”

“Yes,” Victor sighed.

She rolled her eyes, ignoring the others. “Yeah, I remember.”

“And you think we’ll get boring?” he asked, snorting disagreeably.

She sighed in defeat. “Not really.”

She knew he was grinning; that overconfident grin he always had. She bit her lip. He probably looked good enough to eat all dressed up in green leather and walking the building with that utterly glorified smirk.

“Then what other excuses do you have?” he wondered in amusement.

“I think I’m fresh out,” she admitted with a sigh. “Gimme a few minutes and I’ll make a list.”

He chuckled. “Just admit it, Watchtower. You want to marry me. You want to spend the rest of your life having amazing sex and risking your life all in the name of faceless justice.”

She chewed her lip, eyes turning down for only a moment. “I dunno. How am I supposed to explain this proposal to anyone?” She lifted a shoulder. “There should be kneeling and a ring and a candlelight dinner with the certainty of incredible sex at the end!”

“Well, the dinner and kneeling is out. The incredible sex is a given. And the ring…” She leaned forward, eyes still set purposefully on the screen before her. “Check the drawer where you keep your gummybears.”

She lifted a brow, but did as told. Her breath caught in her throat as she laid eyes on the emerald and diamond engagement ring sitting in a beautiful black box with velvet lining. It was… her. Them. All in one incredibly beautiful ring. She felt her eyes sting with tears and her mouth drew up in a grin.

“Marry me,” he told her.

She sucked in a shaky breath, covering her quivering mouth with one hand. “Ollie,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Say yes or I’m not taking one more step.”

She watched as his heat signature came to a complete stop. Up ahead there were four guards walking in his direction.

She blinked away her tears. “You can’t just…”

“Marry me, petal,” he repeated, this time much softer.

She swallowed the ball of emotion in her throat. Unbelievable! He really was. Two and a half years they’d been together. Most of that, she’d spent living in his apartment or traveling the world with him. Always at his side; his partner, his equal. He still called her Sidekick, but now it was more an endearment that a statement of rank. And she _loved_ him. God, did she ever. She loved him physically; those hands, those eyes, that incredible body that did things to hers that she couldn’t even put into words. And emotionally; on every level he seemed to meet her. That oftentimes stoic persona fell when they were alone. He was just Ollie to her. Her Ollie. There was Green Arrow and Watchtower, Oliver Queen and Chloe Sullivan. And then Ollie and his delicate petal. He treasured her and loved her and never let her forget it. She’d never felt more important, more loved than when she was in his arms. When he was whispering in her ear or kissing her gently. When he was holding her hand as they walked down the street or cuddled up together on a lazy Sunday. When he was taking her hard and deep against the slick wall of their shower or making slow love to her in their bed. It was all new to her; a relationship that worked and didn’t falter in any degree. No secrets, no distance, no fear or insecurity.

Why was she even questioning this?

“Please, put him out of his misery. The sooner you say yes, the sooner we can get out of here!” AC interrupted her thoughts.

She laughed, sniffling slightly. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Oliver asked, slightly awed.

She giggled. “Yes. I’ll marry you.” She shook her head, smiling so large her face hurt. “Now get moving! You have four up ahead. I expect you home in one piece. That incredible sex involves both of us!”

Laughing, he got back to work.

She shook her head. This could only happen to her. Sometimes, he had the _worst_ timing. Still… She wouldn’t change it.


	53. First To Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Kent was always the first to know.

**I.**

It felt good to have a full house again. Granted it was full of rambunctious men who somehow made a game out of everything, but still. They were good guys. They did run the Justice League after all. She still held out hope that her son would grow sense and join them, but she understood how uncertain he still was about his heritage. She’d invited them all over for a big Easter feast which they agreed to as long as she came to visit in StarCity for Christmas, which she grudgingly agreed to as well. And now she was searching for Oliver and Chloe to let them know dinner was ready. A large ham, mashed potatoes, gravy, peas and carrots, and home made buns awaited them. She knew how much Oliver loved having homemade meals. The rest of the group was downstairs. Bart was challenging AC to an eating contest (she rolled her eyes), Victor was bringing all the food out to the table (always the gentleman), and Clark and Lois were bickering over who sat where. She shook her head, one day those two would see the light and realize they were in love with each other. She just knew it.

Now all she had to do was find the most allusive of the bunch. Ever since they arrived, the two had been sneaking off for what she assumed was business related conversation. She’d told them all that it was a holiday and so no work was to be brought in and they’d reluctantly agreed to her rule. Still, every time she turned around the two had disappeared once again. They seemed to separate themselves from the rest ever so slightly. They still joked around and joined in the festivities, but they could often be found standing off to the side, whispering to each other. She wondered briefly if they knew how they looked together.

Admittedly, she was a little surprised that Lois and Oliver had dated. Mostly because her mother’s intuition told her Lois was meant for Clark. And, as she knew would happen, Lois and Oliver hadn’t worked out. Secrets and responsibilities to the world at large were too much strain on their relationship.

Oliver was a good man. Kind hearted, justice oriented, hard working, and sincerely caring. He was just as tenacious as Chloe when it came to helping people and solving the questions of the world, just in different ways. She understood why the two got along so well. Why they understood each other in a way many people didn’t. Chloe’s curiosity often got her in trouble and Oliver was the type to go in with a ready and well calculated plan to save her and bring down the criminals all in one shot. She could see the two of them having a give and take work relationship that worked out well for them.

She’d already scoured the lower house and was now walking through the top half in search of the two work-minded guests. Whenever Chloe was on the trail of something big, it was hard to get her to focus on anything else. She had a feeling Oliver was the same way. She checked a few rooms to find them empty until she stopped at the guest room Bart, Victor and AC were sharing. Oliver was staying at Chloe’s for the time being, something she hadn’t thought to question until now. She pushed the door open, mouth open to call out for them, only to come to a shocked stop.

They weren’t _working_ at all. Instead, she found she walked in on a very intimate moment between a couple she hadn’t known was together in _that_ way. Clothes were being tugged down, Oliver’s shirt hanging down to his elbows as he gripped Chloe around her waist, drawing her tightly up against his chest as he kissed her neck and shoulder lovingly. Her hands held onto his muscled biceps tightly, fingers digging in. Eyes shut and head thrown back, her body was curved up over the side of the bed as they stood leaning further back. He was bunching her shirt up at her back, ready to take it off entirely when Martha came to her senses and cleared her throat, eyes darting away.

Their eyes shot open and they turned shocked expressions toward her.

“I… Uh… Didn’t know you two were dating,” she stammered, still at a loss for words.

Clark _definitely_ would’ve mentioned something if the two had started dating! He’d probably call her to rant over all the reasons it was wrong. Lois, the level of danger it would put Chloe in, Oliver’s work schedule, etcetera.

“You’re the first to know,” Chloe told her, smiling weakly.

Not sure what to say, Martha simply nodded. “Well, food’s ready,” she informed them uncomfortably.

Hastily, they started righting their clothes. She couldn’t help but watch as they seemed to fix each other up more than themselves. Chloe was doing up the buttons on Oliver’s shirt as he smoothed hers back down her waist and over her butt as it hung long to her thighs. She righted his collar and ran her fingers through his hair so it didn’t look so mussed. As her arms fell, her thumb briefly brushed at his lips which made him grin slightly. They turned back to Martha, Oliver’s hand settling on the small of Chloe’s back.

She couldn’t help but smile at how well they fit together.

“Dinner smells great,” Oliver says, averting his eyes.

She simply nodded, stepping out of the doorway as the two moved to leave the room. His hand fell from her back and their fingers entwined naturally. Chloe lifted a shoulder in apology as she passed Martha who simply shook her head, rolling her eyes. As the couple disappeared downstairs, she turned her gaze up to the ceiling, wondering what Jonathon would’ve thought of it all.

 **II** :

Martha finished putting the last touches on the gifts she’d purposefully left in the room she was staying in. It was a Christmas tradition to put a few more out at midnight, even if everybody in the house was old enough to know Santa didn’t exist. It was always a nice surprise. Gathering them up into her arms, she put them in her green velvet bag and padded quietly out of the room and down the hall to the stairs. Everybody had long since gone to bed. It was different spending her Christmas away from home, but not entirely a bad different. StarCity was a nice place, especially at night. She’d had them over for Thanksgiving and Easter, so it was only right to stick to her promise to come out for Christmas. Victor, Bart, AC and Clark had come along with her to stay in various guest rooms around Queen Manor. Chloe had moved out of Metropolis a few months prior to move in with Oliver and took up a great position at the Star City Ledger.

As she’d expected, when Clark found out about their relationship, he’d spent a good portion of the day listing all the ways the couple was doomed. But, in the end, he’d accepted that they worked well together. It’d been hard for him to let her move away to StarCity, seeing as they’d been best friends and partners since thirteen. Lois took it especially hard and according to Clark, she was a phone company’s dream with all the time she spent calling her cousin just to see if she wanted to come back. Lois, who still wouldn’t admit that she and Clark were great together, was due to drop in on Boxing Day after spending her holiday with her sister Lucy and the General.

Martha was quiet as she walked down the stairs, having years of practice at getting the gifts to the tree without Clark hearing her. Queen Manor was a beautiful home, but quite large for her taste. She could tell it had more homey touches to it since Chloe moved in; pictures of friends and the couple and a more lived in appeal. She could already see the bright lights of the Christmas tree up ahead as she tip-toed across the foyer to the living room. Oliver had gone all out, buying a beautiful and lush pine tree that the boys had a great time decorating. Bart had even made some of his decorations. They looked like they’d come right out of a Kindergarten craft class, but it was the thought that counted. And he was so very proud about the oddly shaped star/candy cane ornament. When a fight broke about who would put the angel on top, Oliver lifted Chloe up on his shoulders during the argument and she put the finishing touch on the truly awe-inspiring tree.

A glance at the clock reminded her that she really needed to get to bed. If she wanted to beat Oliver’s top chef to the kitchen tomorrow to start work on both breakfast and dinner, she’d have to get up early and she wanted to be well rested for the long time she was going to be spending in the overheated kitchen. Since all the bedrooms were upstairs, she figured being exceptionally quiet wasn’t as important. However, as she came around the corner, she stopped abruptly. Apparently not _everyone_ was asleep in bed with visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads.

Caught beneath the mistletoe, Chloe and Oliver were heavily absorbed in their kiss. The green and red decoration hung from the center of the roof, something she was sure Bart had moved at least six times in hopes of getting a kiss from his favorite crush. Looked like it hadn’t worked out in his favor, though. From the soft carols playing lightly in the background and the way their bodies stood together, she deduced that they had been dancing before the mistletoe made an entrance. Her arms were wrapped tight around his neck, her green silk robe sleeves bunching at her shoulders from the incline. Oliver’s large hands splayed out over the small of her back, sliding up slowly as he caressed her mouth with his.

Martha sighed inwardly, remembering a moment that seemed so long ago, between her and Jonathon.

They were dressed for bed in noticeably green pajamas and a couple of mugs sat cooling on the fireplace ledge.

One of Oliver’s hands fell from her back to dig around in his pocket for a moment. He was good at multitasking, she noticed, as he continued to press feverish kisses to Chloe’s mouth and neck as he searched for something in his housecoat. Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for and Martha nearly dropped the full gift bag as she spotted what he’d been searching for. His palm slid up Chloe’s side and over the curve of her shoulder before skimming the line of her arm slung around his neck. Her eyes were still closed as she leaned her head back to Oliver’s perusing lips trailing down the column of her neck. However, as the ring was slid onto her finger, her green eyes flew open and widened. Her fingers splayed out before her thumb turned inward to trace along the underside of the ring in astonishment.

“Ollie?” she whispered, despite the quiet of the room.

He nuzzled her neck before parting from her only slightly, their noses touching. His eyes met hers, staring at her as if she’d hung the stars and smiling adoringly at her. Martha took a step back. This was _their_ moment. She turned around and made her way back up the stairs. She’d put the gifts out when she woke up. She closed her bedroom door softly and put the bag down beside it. Crawling into the large bed, she fell into a comfortable sleep, remembering a proposal made when she was a young girl in love with a farmer with sandy hair and a warm grin that made her insides squirm.

The next morning, she acted just as surprised as everyone else when the engagement ring was noticed. She knew she’d say yes.

 **III** :

Martha hadn’t expected to be in Metropolis all day long, but it seemed as though work was never ending. She was on her lunch break now, but she’d have to return to work soon, unfortunately. It was a beautiful day and she really rather wished she could be strolling the park or back in Smallville, enjoying the quiet of her farm. Ever since Lois and Clark got their act together, he hadn’t been around as much and so her large home had been all hers. Still, she wasn’t often without visitors. Bart always stopped in for a bite to eat when he was in the area, or knew she was cooking.

The League and Lois all dropped by for Easter a few weeks prior. It was hard to believe it’d been three years since finding out about Oliver and Chloe during the same meal. Unfortunately, the incident repeated itself when she accidentally stepped in on the couple, married nearly two years now, using her hayloft as make-out point. From what she heard from Clark and Bart, the two had been caught by nearly everyone in the League in various stages of undress.

Her cell phone was ringing at her side but she ignored it. She only had an hour to get away from work and she wasn’t going to spend it arguing with someone over something work related. She wanted to get lunch, give her son a call and then relax on a park bench where she could pretend she was as carefree as the couple walking out of the baby store ahead of her. Her brow furrowed. Her feet slowed for a moment and her head tipped to the side. Was that…? Her brows lifted and a smile broke out across her face as she recognized Oliver and Chloe Queen. She immediately noticed how his hand fell low to cradle Chloe’s still-flat stomach affectionately.

“Congratulations,” she called out in greeting, only a few feet from the couple.

They turned around to her. “Thanks,” Chloe said before grinning up at her husband. “You’re the first to know!”

She always was, it seemed. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” she wondered.

Chloe looped and arm with her and directed them down the street. “Let’s get lunch and we’ll tell you all about it!”

Martha felt rather like a soon-to-be-grandmother in that moment and forgot all about any work problems. She listened happily as the couple informed her animatedly about finding out and the first ultrasound and how they were going to set up the bedroom. Oliver’s hand sat at the small of Chloe’s back, directing her down the sidewalk as she paid all of her attention to Martha, cheeks flushed and excited grin wide across her face. She simply moved in whatever direction he brought her, completely trusting him. It was rare to find such a perfect fit, but they had. She smiled softly. They were going to be great parents.


	54. Operation Chlollie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark knew that when Lois put her mind to something, there was no talking her out of it. Chlollie!

“I want a new codename,” Clark whined with a sigh. 

Lois rolled her eyes. “No!” she told him in a harsh whisper for the fifth time. 

He exhaled heavily. “I don’t even know why we need them! But I hate mine!” 

She brushed the annoying branches of the bush in front of her out of her way. “I think it fits you!” She grinned. She really just loved it because he hated it. 

He was so close to her, she could feel his exasperated sigh at the nape of her neck. “It doesn’t even make sense,” he grumbled. 

“Shut up, Big Red!” 

He scowled. 

“What? You wear that red jacket all the time! Fashion sense much?” She rolled her eyes before peeking through the prickly bushes once more to try and spot who she was looking for. 

“You know _Bart’_ s the one that likes her, right?” he asked, moving slightly so he was kneeling next to her. With his size, she was starting to wonder if he was even hidden behind the bush anymore. 

She frowned, looking over to him. “Hey, I like the kid. But he’s just not Chloe material. He’s not made for this family.” 

He blinked at her. “You realize we’re just trying to get them to realize they like each other, not get married, right? There’s no certainty they’ll even agree with your assessment!” 

_“Our_ assessment. And they will! They just have to open their eyes to the inevitable!” She frowned at him. “And please, Smallville. Of _course_ they’ll get married. This is a foolproof plan. Step one, get them to see they like each other. Step two, make sure they know we’re okay with it. Step three, force them to admit their feelings to each other. Yadda yadda yadda. Marriage, sweaty sex, lots of babies, Aunty Lois and Uncle Clark. Tada! 

He stared at her like she grew a second head. “Where do you come up with this stuff?” 

She shrugged. “Raw talent.” 

“Very raw,” he muttered, brow furrowed. 

“Hey! You’re part of the team here, Big Red! Stop complaining and more spying!” 

Oliver and Chloe were currently taking the dog she’d convinced him to buy out for a walk in the park. They took a seat at a bench and Oliver threw a ball for Archer to run and get. As the dog gleefully crossed the green field before him, his owner turned to the blonde next to him to examine the papers she’d brought along. Lois rolled her eyes. Always working, those two. Still, this was a prime example of why the two obviously liked each other. There was no reason for Oliver to lean in so much! And did he _really_ need to brush her hair off her cheek for her? Of course not! Lois grinned. 

They’d been doing this for months. It was what had tipped her off to the mutual attraction going untended to by the both of them. They were both adamant that they were only friends and that their feelings remained platonic, but Lois saw the heat between them and she wasn’t about to let a good guy walk out of her cousin’s life. Too often had Chloe been stuck with the losers or psychos or a mixture of both. And here was the perfect guy for her! He was leader of the freakin’ Justice League – how was he _not_ exactly what she needed? He was handsome, funny, intelligent, and worked hard. Yeah, there was no way Lois was going to let Queen slip away this. Sure he wasn’t meant for her, but damn if he wasn’t meant for Chloe! 

“I wish we could hear them,” she muttered, thinning her eyes to stare at the unknowing couple as they spoke privately. Their lips quirked every once in awhile so she knew it wasn’t all about work. Oliver turned away to take the ball from Archer and threw it again, far into the distance, grinning as the dog took off with great exuberance. 

“Can you read lips?” she asked Clark. 

He turned to her, his expression blank. 

“Right. Of course not.” She shook her head. “Move over, I’ll see if I can get anything.” 

With a sigh, he moved around her, lumbering on his too long legs with his bulky upper body. She should date more cowboy types. If they were half as ripped as Clark, she’d be one happy woman. She squinted, biting down on her lip and trying to figure out what Oliver was saying to Chloe. “I need… your… help tonight.” She wrinkled her nose in concentration. “You’re not busy, are you?” She noticed Chloe shake her head but couldn’t see her cousin’s mouth at the angle she was in. “Good.” She frowned. “Okay… He either said, bring the files or wear nothing but your smile.” 

Clark snorted. 

She frowned at him before turning back. Oliver pushed Chloe’s hair behind her ear for her once more and the side of her mouth was visible. “Turn,” she whispered. “Little more. Come on…” She grinned. “Okay, and Chloe’s saying… Thought we fixed that… problem last week.” 

She turned her eyes toward Oliver. “We did. This is something else.” 

“Where’s you learn this?” Clark wondered rather suspiciously. 

“Shh.” She stared at Chloe’s moving lips. “Ooh, sounds dangerous. Should I break out the red leather?” 

“Lois!” 

“No really, she said that,” she told him, eyes wide. 

He rolled his eyes, blushing slightly. 

“She meant her JL outfit, Clark. Calm down.” She turned back to them once more and smirked. “I’ll wear mine if you wear yours. And then Chloe said. ‘Will whip cream be involved, because I don’t want to stain mine. And then Oliver said, ‘Of course there’ll be whip cream. When isn’t there?” She glanced at Clark from the side of her eyes and lifted a shoulder. “Fine, they didn’t say that. But it’s not completely unbelievable. I bet if they were together, that’d be something they’d totally—“ 

“Lois,” he interrupted, shaking his head to get her to stop. 

“Prude,” she muttered. “Oh, they’re leaving,” she sighed, frowning. “Where do you think they’ll go?” 

“To file a restraining order maybe,” he murmured under his breath. 

“I heard that,” she replied, ducking lower and grabbing his collar to force him down as the two walked by, Archer following behind them. They ran into a problem when the dog began sniffing around the bush. 

“Archie, let’s go,” Chloe called out. 

“I thought we agreed not to call him that,” Oliver reminded, lifting a brow. 

“Archer is so stiff though. I like Archie,” she replied shrugging before she clapped her hands together. “Come on Arch _er_ ,” she said mockingly. “You want a treat? Huh?” 

“You spoil him.” 

“That’s why he loves me more.” 

“Hey, I’m his master! He’ll always come back to me!” he said, whistling to get the dog to return to his side. 

“Yeah well, it wasn’t _my_ Armani shoes he was chewing on the other day.” 

Oliver glowered. 

Lois hopped up from the ground as they turned to walk down the street, completely oblivious to the presence of their friends. She wiped off her knees and looked at Clark with exasperation. “Come on, they’re getting away!” 

“They’re not criminals, Lois,” he said, standing up with a sigh. “Remind me again why I’m doing this?” 

“Because,” she said, grabbing his coat sleeve and dragging him down the street. 

There wasn’t anything more interesting to see, however. They took Archer for a walk down the road, back toward QueenTowers, stopping for an ice cream, Oliver’s treat, on the way. Lois made Clark hide behind trees and food stands as they tailed them, forcing him to buy them ice cream too when she noticed the strawberry was made with real fruit. Chloe’s arm was hooked through Oliver’s elbow and they continued to chat with each other during their leisurely walk, ignoring the outside world entirely. Lois couldn’t read their lips unfortunately, but their body language said enough. He always watched her when she laughed; it made him smile. And she leaned into him whenever he said something she agreed with, her head falling against his shoulder for a moment. They stood closer than any normal friends would. She ignored the fact that she made Clark give her a piggy back twenty minutes into the walk. She wore heels; it wasn’t her brightest moment! 

Given that there was nothing left to do when they returned to the apartment, she decided to call Chloe and let her know they were coming over. She acted as though she was fairly far away so not to blow her cover. And because of it ended up standing just outside of QueenTowers for a half an hour, using Clark as a cover from the wind. Finally, they entered the building and rode the elevator up to her ex’s apartment. She breathed in and grinned as she smelled dinner cooking. She’d been staring at a hotdog vendor nearly a half hour, her mouth watering. 

“What’s cookin’?” she called out, shrugging her coat off. 

“Nothing special,” Chloe replied. 

Lois and Clark entered the living area and looked over to see Chloe at the stove and Oliver on the phone, leaning against the window and talking quietly. 

“Some chicken and rice,” she told them as they entered the kitchen. 

Oliver hung up the phone and joined them. “Chlo makes the best chicken!” he said with a smile. 

“I’m guessing Bart’s not coming to dinner,” Clark mentioned, motioning to the four pieces frying away in the pan. 

Chloe shook her head with a slight grin. “Nah, he’s somewhere in L.A. chatting up a red head.” 

“Aww, has his long ignored affection for you waned?” Lois teased. 

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “He phoned to tell me that she’d never be as special, but he couldn’t pass up a good thing.” She chuckled. “I told him to go for it and I’d find a way to mend my broken heart.” She rolled her eyes. 

Oliver leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, staring down at the food for a moment. “Did you—“ 

“Mix the mushrooms with the rice? Yes, I did,” she said, smiling. “And I made salad too.” Her brows knit as she glanced up at him. “You bought another, right?” 

“Yeah, I picked up the new dressing this morning. Three cheese ranch, right?” 

She nodded, winking at him in thanks. 

Lois and Clark exchanged looks. While Chloe still lived in Smallville, she spent a whole lot more of her time in Metropolis. Mostly in this very apartment. She and Oliver always said they were hard at work, but Lois knew that there was obviously a great friendship between them. They had so many inside jokes, she often just gave up on trying to understand them. 

“Mm, weren’t you going to show Clark that thing?” Chloe asked absently. 

Oliver’s brow furrowed for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, right.” He stepped back from the stove, his hand briefly settling over Chloe’s shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly before he motioned for Clark to follow him. 

“Grill him!” Lois mouthed to Clark. 

He furrowed his brow, shaking his head incomprehensibly. 

She rolled her eyes. “Grill him!” she repeated, this time in a slight whisper. 

“What?” Chloe asked, confused. 

“Huh? Nothing,” she said quickly. 

Clark nodded at her in understanding and turned back to Oliver. 

“So…” Lois said, lifting herself up to sit on the counter and staring down at her younger cousin curiously. This was the time for stealth; too slowly integrate Oliver into the conversation and try and get Chloe to open up about her feelings. You and Oliver seem pretty close lately.” Or… not. 

Chloe laughed slightly, glancing up at her in amusement. “Not this again, Lois!” 

“I’m just saying…” She shrugged a shoulder, eyes widening slightly. “What’s the big deal? He’s single, you’re single. He’s hot, you’re, as Bart would say, super _fuerte_!” She chuckled. “And you guys totally work together.” 

“Yeah, we do. We _work_ together,” she reminded, shaking her head as if to make Lois see sense. “He’s my boss, my friend, and nothing more.” 

“But he could be…?” she queried, eyes thinned. 

“No. And he _won’t_ be,” she said, waving her spatula and Lois in a rather warning manner. “Leave it alone. We have a good working relationship going here. I don’t want you messing it up!” 

“Moi?” she asked innocently as she hopped down from the counter. She leaned her chin on Chloe’s shoulder and sighed. “I’m just looking out for you, lil cuz.” 

“Well I’m fine. I don’t need dating advice or any of your matchmaking skills.” She glanced at her from the corner of her eyes. “I mean it, Lois!” 

She grinned back widely. “Come on, Chlo. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about him naked!” 

“Lois!” Chloe shrieked, her cheeks tingeing pink and her mouth widening in a grin. 

“What’s going on?” Oliver’s voice called out as he reentered the kitchen. 

Chloe cleared her throat before rolling her eyes and taking up an indifferent expression. “Lois Is _determined_ to make us ‘see the light’ and get together.” 

“Is that right?” he asked, his mouth quirking slightly with amusement. 

“Hey, I call it like I see it. And I’m just saying…” She lifted her palms before pointing at them. “You two have something going on between you. Don’t blame me if you two are too blind to see it.” 

Oliver frowned. “Is that why Clark kept asking me if I was seeing anyone or interested in anyone?” 

Lois scoffed. “No stealth, that one.” 

Chloe laughed, shaking her head. 

“So, what’re you guys doing tonight?” Lois wondered, leaning casually against the fridge and examining the few pictures held up on it by weird little vegetable magnets. There was one of all the boys in the League and a picture of everyone with Chloe but not Oliver and then a separate one with just Chloe and Oliver catching the two of them laughing at the Kent farm one afternoon. 

“Tonight, just work,” Chloe told her, flipping the chicken. 

“Nothing special?” 

Chloe turned her head, staring at her cousin funny. “What? You mean like a secret rendezvous we haven’t told you about? Because we’re secretly dating and didn’t want to tell you,” she teased. 

Clark entered the room looking uncomfortable. “You guys have been secretly dating?” 

Oliver and Chloe laughed while Lois simply shook her head. Operation Chlollie would take longer than expected; apparently they were still in denial about their feelings. For now, she’d just set the table and bide her time. 

A week later, Lois and Clark had scored themselves and invite to a big gala that Chloe and Oliver were going to. She’d been his date to a lot of events lately, stating that he just needed somebody more down to earth to keep him company. Please! He was just using it as an excuse to mask his feelings, of which he was still in denial of having. 

It was a little hard to stay hidden, but they managed well enough. Lois wore her hair down so she could use it to shield her face. Clark stood out like a blinking sign, constantly fiddling with his bow tie. But she’d just have to make sure he faced away from them. They were a little distracted at the moment anyway. Currently, they were doing a slow waltz out on the dance floor. They were so at ease with each other, it didn’t seem entirely implausible that the two might sway and dance together often. Their hands entwined and their bodies meshed together as they talked in low whispers, eyes focused only on each other. 

Lois tipped her head to one side, watching their interaction avidly. Their heads were bowed closed than needed and Chloe’s eyes wrinkled at the sides as she smiled and laughed at whatever it was Oliver was murmuring to her. Friends didn’t look at each other like that. With adoration and awe and complete focus. His eyes seemed to wash over her face, taking in ever inch as if memorizing her. He wasn’t giving her his subdued smile like he so often did, it was a full out Ollie grin. He didn’t hold back with her. 

Lois tapped the mic in her ear, grinning slightly when she heard Clark mutter his irritation with her. She’d skimped them off her dad the last time she saw them and this was the perfect time to use them. Clark was currently trying to stay unnoticed on the other side of the room while avoiding the half-drunk debutante that kept smiling at him suggestively. 

“Ow,” he muttered forcefully, letting her know he didn’t appreciate what she’d done. 

She snickered inwardly. “You see what I see?” 

“A really large buffet equipped with funny looking shrimp?” he said quizzically. 

She really needed a new sidekick. With Chloe unable to work this case, she was a little low on prospects. 

“No…” she sighed. “I meant on the dance floor! Do you see sparks? I see serious sparks.” 

“There’s a fire?” he asked worriedly. 

“Oh my… Clark, I meant metaphorical sparks, between Oliver and Chloe.” 

“Oh…” he muttered, sounding embarrassed. “Uh, I can’t see them. There’s this really big guy in my way and he’s eating all the ham sandwiches.” 

“Okay, stomach later, mission now!” she told him forcefully. “ _Covertly_ lumber you way toward the dance floor!” 

“On my way,” he said. 

A moment later she was pretty sure she could see him between the crowds of dancing people. “You see?” 

“Uh yeah, is his hand supposed to be that low?” he wondered. 

Lois looked over and her brows lifted slightly at the way Oliver was cradling Chloe close to him, his hand half covering the small of her back while covering the top portion of her butt. She was pretty sure his thumb was stroking the sliver of skin shown above the rim of her dress as well. She snorted. “Not for friends it isn’t.” 

As the song ended, Oliver and Chloe left the dance floor, incepted shortly thereafter by a few people that looked like they wanted to talk shop. Lois wandered over to the buffet and snagged a handful of shrimp, washing the funny tasting seafood down with bubbly champagne. She frowned when she noticed all the good sandwiches were gone. What was up with the catering? Not everybody liked caviar and finger food! She’d give anything for a slice of pizza right about then. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for Oliver and Chloe only to find them chatting with an ancient looking couple. Their hands hung clasped together between them. Old money, she decided. They didn’t look as stiff or uptight as most of the others she’d seen around. They were sincerely smiling as they talked with Oliver and Chloe, who looked as though they knew the couple quite well. 

She decided to venture closer, but turned so her face was hidden. She used a large man as a cover and tipped her head back to hear better. 

“So how is Archie doing?” the older woman asked. 

“You’re encouraging others to call him that now too?” Oliver asked, turning slightly toward Chloe. 

She rolled her eyes. “It fits better.” She smiled back at the couple. “He’s adamant that we call him Archer, but he’s so playful sometimes. He just feels like an Archie.” She lifted a shoulder. “I bet if he was human, he’d have red hair and freckles.” 

Oliver chuckled. “Big Archie comics reader?” 

“I always liked Betty better than Veronica,” she informed him, lifting her champagne flute to her mouth. 

He smiled at her. “Me too.” 

Chloe stared at him a moment longer than necessary before turning back to the couple. “Archie’s doing great. We’ve got him off the puppy chow now.” She lifted a shoulder. “He still prefers Ollie’s shoes to his chew toys, but at least now it’s his runners rather than his dress shoes.” 

The woman nodded sagely. “Oh our Rosie used to chew on all of my good heels and then bury them in the backyard when they were unrecognizable.” 

“Nuisance that dog,” the man said in a rather gruff but fond voice. 

“And now she wants a cat,” Oliver said, nodding his head toward Chloe. 

“I just think Archie needs a playmate!” she exclaimed with a small laugh. 

“He comes with me almost everywhere I go. I get a cat and you’ll tell me we need another one just to keep it company!” he replied, chuckling. 

The older woman smiled gently at them, exchanging a look with her husband. “So, have you two realized what was there all along yet?” 

Oliver and Chloe looked over to them in confusion. 

“’Fraid not then,” the older gentleman said. “Soon though. You’ll see,” he said, nodding at Oliver. 

“Cynthia! Is that you?” a rather shrill voice called out. 

The older woman standing next to Chloe shuddered ever so slightly. “Well, back to the hobnobbing, I suppose. We’ll see you two later, I hope.” 

“Of course,” Chloe told her, nodding. “I still need to suss that peach cobbler recipe out of you!” she said, waving her finger and grinning. 

“Never, my dear,” Cynthia replied before turning to her husband. “Come along Allen. You can talk to Jessica’s fourth husband… Or wait, is it her fifth?” she wondered as they walked off toward the shrill, waving woman. 

“Come in Big Red?” Lois said as she walked away from Oliver and Chloe, following behind the large man and smiling at him as he looked at her funny. “You heard that right? I _told_ you I wasn’t delusional! Other people see it too!” 

“If I really thought you were delusional do you think I’d be doing this?” Clark sighed into her earpiece. 

She rolled her eyes, frowning as her stomach grumbled. “Hey, they bring out anything tasty to the buffet?” she wondered. 

He snickered. “Nope, just shrimp, cucumber sandwiches, shrimp, some weird jell-O thing, and oh, look, more shrimp.” 

She broke away from the large man next to her, following a woman with a weird grey up-do and stopped next to Clark at the buffet. “Shrimp’s all right, but did they really need this much?” she asked, picking up another handful and popping it one by one into her mouth. “You wanna hit up Pizza Hut after this?” 

“When’s this over?” he wondered boredly. 

She shrugged. “Whenever they go home,” she said, motioning to Oliver and Chloe across the room, talking with a few other people now. 

“Why are we here again? What is this accomplishing?” he muttered, disgruntled. 

“We need to keep an eye on them. I think they’re starting to realize there’s something there.” 

“I think they’re in as much denial as they were last week,” he told her, picking up a carrot from the vegetable plate and dipping it into the ranch dressing. He chewed it on side and frowned at her. “And I think you just wanted to get dressed up!” 

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s go dance. It’ll get us closer and I can hear what they’re talking about.” 

“But—“ 

She didn’t wait for him to continue, instead dragging him out onto the floor. He wasn’t a bad dancer; if her feet could survive four inch heels, they could get through his stumbling. Having the mic’s so close, they tended to crackle, making her ears itchy. Her eye kept twitching and she was pretty sure at least six people had already decided she was mentally unstable. From hiding behind them to talking to seemingly a whole lot of air to her twitching eyes, she wasn’t exactly making a good impression. Meh, she could care less. 

“Can we stop dancing?” Clark asked, shifting around funny. 

She looked up at him, frowning. “Why?” 

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I have to go to the bathroom.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Go ahead. I’m going to try and get closer.” 

He simply nodded, letting her go to make his way to the washroom. 

Once again, she found herself standing next to somebody she didn’t know, using their girth to hide her. “Hey,” she said, smiling slightly as they looked at her oddly from the corner of their eyes. 

“Didn’t see you in Barabdos this summer, Queen,” one of the men standing next to the focus of her attention said. 

“Got busy. You know how it is,” Oliver replied. 

“Of course.” He grinned roguishly at Chloe. “It’s easy to become distracted by much more beautiful sights.” 

“I’ve never been,” Chloe told him, smiling slightly. 

“Never?” He looked toward Oliver. “Been slacking in the romancing area, eh Ollie?” 

Oliver smiled at him stiffly. 

“Oliver?” someone called and Lois turned to see a balding man waving him over. 

“Go ahead. I’ll keep an eye on your date, promise.” 

Oliver lifted his brow before turning toward Chloe. “I’ll be right back.” He squeezed her hand briefly before going to meet the man across from him. 

Lois frowned, watching as the rather handsome looking guy before her turned the charm on for Chloe. 

“Hot Fox to Big Red, if you’re done, we have a situation,” she said, tapping her earpiece. 

“Seriously, I want a new codename!” 

She rolled her eyes. “Now’s not the _time_ Smallville! We have a problem here!” 

“What?” he sighed. 

She glared at the man in front of her as he reached out and touched Chloe’s upper arm, smiling. 

“Looks like someone’s stepping up to the plate for a little Chloe action,” Lois muttered. 

“Huh?” 

“Someone else likes Chloe!” she said, shaking her head. It was _so hard_ to find good help these days. 

“Oh. Who?” he wondered. 

“I dunno. Some hot number with a really bright smile.” 

She just knew he was rolling his eyes. “A little more specific? Name, how he knows here, something useful!” 

She sighed but walked over to Oliver who was no longer talking to the balding man, but standing alone, drinking his champagne. “Hey.” He nodded to her in greeting, seemingly not surprised in the least that she was there. The perks of being a reporter she supposed. “Who’s the hottie chattin’ up Chlo?” 

He frowned. “Business associate.” 

“Do they often steal your dates or is this a freak occurrence?” she wondered, smiling in a challenging way. 

He glared at her. “He’s not _stealing_ my date. Chloe is free to see whoever she likes.” 

While his words said one thing, the way he was staring at the man said another. If looks could kill, they’d be ordering a body bag right about now. 

She grinned. “So you think she’s leaving here with you or…?” She cocked her head to one side, lifting a suggestive brow. 

His eyes turned hard as he returned his gaze to her. “She’s not his _type_ ,” he told her crisply. 

She frowned, her eyes turning up sideways thoughtfully. “Beautiful, funny, interesting, independent, grounded—“ 

“Risky, adventurous, too curious for her own good, exciting, magnetized to danger,” he finished. 

“Ah, there are perks and downsides to the life.” She shrugged. 

He simply turned back toward Chloe and the unsub as her cousin through her head back in a laugh, mouth lifting in a large smile. Her suitor reached out to brush a tendril of her hair from her cheek, grinning at her with interest. 

“Oh yeah. She’s not his type at all,” she mocked. 

He ground his teeth together and a moment later had his hand at the small of her back and was directing her toward the two. Confused, Lois went along with it, her brow furrowed. 

“James, I don’t think you’ve met the lovely 

Lois Lane,” he said, practically forcing her onto him. “Chloe, could you join me on the terrace?” 

“Actually I was just—“ James started but didn’t finish. 

“Of course,” Chloe interrupted. “Nice meeting you, James.” With that, she reached out to wrap her hand around Oliver’s forearm and followed the smirking billionaire away. 

“So…” James said, turning to Lois and smiling a disarming grin. 

She lifted a brow. “Yeah, sorry, James. You just got benched.” With that, she turned and left, hand lifting to the mic in her ear. “Hot Fox to Big Red. Situation has been fixed. Targets are on the terrace.” 

“Why are they called targets?” 

“Because,” she said with an exasperated sigh. 

“I think you’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds.” 

“Shut up,” she told him, ignoring the way people were staring at her oddly. 

Seeing as she couldn’t get a good view of Chloe or Oliver out on the terrace, Lois fell victim to her hunger once more and wandered back to the buffet. Clark on the other hand was weaving through the crowd in search of his two friends, hoping to see if maybe he could convince them to head home early so he too could get out of his monkey suit and get some sleep. Lois was exhausting when she was on the trail of… well, anything. She was adamant on getting Chloe and Oliver together though and Clark knew that when Lois put her mind to something, there was no talking her out of it. They’d been following the two around for over a week with no real breakthroughs on the “case.” They still acted the same as they always did. Whispering and touching and hanging out more than just coworkers or even friends. 

He admitted, to himself but rarely Lois (mostly because he enjoyed saying she was wrong), that Chloe and Oliver obviously had something between them. He’d been noticing the little things between them; how Oliver touched her rather intimately. To brush her hair behind her shoulder or bandage up her wounds for her, wherever they may be. To wipe away the whip cream from her mouth when she drank hot chocolate or loop his arm through hers as they walked. They took a dog that was Oliver’s but considered both of theirs for a walk nearly every day. When they weren’t together, he noticed they were often on the phone with each other. They could finish each other’s sentences or understand what they were talking about when nobody else did. And he hadn’t missed the lingering looks Oliver passed her way. How when she licked her lips, he followed the movement with his eyes. Or when she smiled at him, he automatically smiled back. Or how when she laughed, he liked to watch her face brighten up. Yeah, even if Clark thought Lois’ little covert plan to spy and get them together was a little weird, he knew that she was just looking out for her cousin. She could do far worse than Oliver Queen. 

He didn’t want to think about what the future might hold if the two of them worked out long term. After all, Oliver lived in StarCity and really only visited Metropolis when he could. Did that mean Chloe would eventually move there as well? She’d already become a main fixture in the Justice League and her work at the Daily Planet wasn’t as much as it could be. Her work ethic hadn’t changed, it had just diverted to elsewhere. While Chloe was working hard to save the world, Lois was the one getting the bylines her cousin had always wanted. But there was no issue taken between the two cousins. Chloe loved her life as it was. Right next to Oliver Queen and his band of do-gooders. Clark wondered if he’d ever be apart of that. It was his choice and he still wasn’t sure of what the outcome would be. He knew that what they were doing was great. A league of people to fight for justice in all its forms. But he and Oliver didn’t always see eye to eye on how it should be served. He and Chloe, however, they were like joint partners in the grand scheme of things, and Clark wondered if perhaps one day she wouldn’t be his sidekick anymore, but Oliver’s. 

As he sidled past an older gentleman that had obviously had too much to drink, he could spot through the open doors, the terrace on which Chloe and Oliver stood rather close. He focused his attention on his hearing until it heightened and zoomed in to just the two of them, blocking out exterior noise. While Chloe stood gazing out at the beautiful gardens, her forearms resting on the rail, Oliver Oliver was staring at her, an oddly affectionate expression on his face. 

“I wish I had space for a garden,” she told him rather wistfully. 

“You could use my roof area to build one,” he offered with a small shrug. 

“Maybe I will,” she said, nodding slightly. “I bet Archie would love it.” 

“He’s never going to be Archer, is he?” 

She laughed. “No.” 

He shook his head, smiling. “Then I guess I should admit defeat.” 

“Well, you can still fight it if you want, but you know I’ll win,” she said playfully. 

“You always do,” he agreed with a small sigh. 

“Ew, I hate cauliflower,” Clark heard in his ear and shook his head slightly to rid himself of Lois’ voice. 

“That reminds me, don’t touch the new cans of dog food you just bought,” she told him, turning slightly. “I read the back, there’s peanut oil in it for some reason.” 

He nodded. “Never thought to check.” 

“You’re lucky you have me then,” she told him, her mouth quirking one side. 

“No complaints here.” 

She turned her eyes back toward the garden. “My feet are killing me.” 

“I’ll rub them for you when we get back to my apartment, just to thank you for gracing me with your presence tonight.” 

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Hey, I’m not going to talk you out of it!” 

He grinned. “Because you know these hands work wonders!” he flirted. 

She turned toward him once more, her back leaning against the rail as she smiled up at him mischievously. “I’ve heard rumors of such a thing.” 

He stared at her a moment, his humorous expression slowly dissipating. “You know, maybe Lois didn’t have it all wrong.” 

Her brow furrowed. “You’re not talking about the dying my hair brown and going undercover as her for a week, are you? Because she definitely missed the mark on that one.” She snorted. 

He laughed huskily, eyes turning off for a moment before he looked back at her seriously. “Actually, I meant more along the lines of us working out in a more… romantic atmosphere.” 

She looked up at him with a grin. “Are you asking me out, Ollie?” 

“Depends on your answer, Sidekick,” he replied, stepping a little closer. 

She quirked a brow. “I dunno. Will there be whip cream involved?” 

He grinned. “Eventually, yes.” 

With a laugh, she nodded. And Clark watched as the two leaned down to kiss. Chloe’s arms lifted to wrap around Oliver’s neck, tangling in his hair, while Oliver’s arms wrapped tight around her waist, lifting her from the ground slightly. The heat he’d seen boiling between them erupted noticeably as their mouths meshed together, tongues tangling. He could hear their heartbeats speed up and their gasping in between kisses. 

Operation Chlollie complete. 

“Hot Fox to Big Read – have you tried the shrimp? They’re not sitting right with me,” she complained. “And I think we need a new approach on Operation Chlollie. Something bigger. Maybe get everybody in on it.” 

Clark rolled his eyes. 


	55. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any guy who thought he was going to date a Queen had better have the guts needed, because Oliver wasn’t letting just anyone get near his daughter.

The boy on the couch couldn’t stop squirming and Oliver felt triumph well inside of himself. He kept his smirk hidden, an icy glare piecing darkly into the fifteen year old kid who was near sweating in discomfort. He would too if he were in the same predicament. Four very intimidating men were before him, each with a question thrown at him so harshly, it’d have anybody shaking where they sat. He had to admit though, the kid had guts. He hadn’t run out, apologizing for having just remembered he had to do something, anything, else. Yet, anyway. But any guy who thought he was going to date a Queen had better have the guts needed, because Oliver wasn’t letting just anyone get near his daughter.

Speaking of… Fifteen year old Darcy Queen sat next to the boy in question, her arms crossed over her chest and a menacing glare pointed directly at her father and three uncles, all of which pointedly ignored the look. It was too damn much like her mother’s and they knew it’d have them backing down in no time.

“What grade are you in?” Victor asked, his voice calm but his expression carefully masked in a most dark way.

“Uh, ten,” Randy replied, clearing his throat and glancing back at Darcy. “Me and Darce have Math together.”

“Darcy and I,” she corrected automatically. A habit she’d picked up from her reporter mother.

Instead of being annoyed, Randy simply smiled. In a way far too reminiscent of Oliver when he first fell for his wife. His eyes thinned and his mouth pursed. “Grade point average?” he asked gruffly.

“Dad!” his daughter screeched loudly and offended.

Oliver let the question slide. “Do you like school, Randy?”

“It’s… okay,” he replied with a slight shrug. “It’s required, I guess.” He smiled. “I’m glad when the bell rings.”

Oliver elbowed Bart who he knew was nodding agreeably.

“Oof,” he heard the younger man mutter before he was rubbing his chest. “You play any sports?”

“I’m on the baseball team.”

“You take steroids?” AC leaned forward, eyes boring into the younger man. “A lot of kids do, nowadays. Easy high, quick muscles…”

Randy shook his head abruptly. “N-No! I would never. That’s illegal, not to mention stupid.”

“This is ridiculous,” Darcy muttered in irritation.

“I happen to think this is very important Darciel,” Oliver returned, staring at her seriously.

She pursed her mouth, letting him no that while she hated that he’d revealed her full name, she’d allow him to continue. Her eyes, however, told him _just you wait until mom gets home_.

He chose to ignore her warning.

“Are you calling some of your teammates stupid, man? That’s not very good sportsmanship,” Bart goaded.

“What?” he sputtered in surprise, running a hand through his dark hair nervously. “No! Nobody on my team does that stuff!”

“How can you be sure? Have you been offered? Have you ever seen it done? Are you into the drug scene, Randy?” Oliver threw out, all of his words carefully chosen and his tone level.

“I-I- I don’t-“ He sighed, looking around in frustrated confusion. “Look, I don’t do drugs and none of my friends do. I mean… I mean…” He sighed. “I tried a little pot once, okay? But I didn’t like it and I never did it again!” he admitted, eyes wide with sincerity.

“What do you think of my daughter, Randy?” Oliver asked, leaning back in his chair slightly, his jaw clenched tightly in a menacing manner.

Randy blinked wildly, obviously surprised at the surprise turn of the subject. “I… Darcy is great! She’s… She’s pretty and—“

“So you like her for her looks?” Oliver interrupted. “She’s just a pretty face to you?”

“What? Of course not. I mean, yeah she’s hot- I mean _beautiful_! She’s really…” He sighed, lifting his hands to cover his face in mortification. “Your daughter is intelligent and cool and really funny,” he mumbled through his hands.

“Dad, I think that’s enough. Can’t you see you’re embarrassing him?” Darcy half-shouted, her arms crossed over her chest and her cheeks reddening much like her mother’s face did when she was getting riled.

“Just a few more questions,” Bart said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “So you date much, Randy? You a little player?”

“No. Not really. I mean… I mean I’ve had a few dates, I guess,” he replied, sighing as he let his hands fall away and his shoulders slump.

So defeated, Oliver noticed. It was easier than he expected. Soon the word would get around that if anybody wanted to date Darciel Queen, they’d have to face a firing squad of scary and unrelenting men. He glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned. His wife would be home soon and she’d certainly have something to say about the interrogation going on. She was all for Darcy getting out and exploring the world of boys. Oliver on the other hand, was all for her never knowing anything more than boys have cooties and her daddy loves her. Of course, she only ever called him daddy when she needed something and she hadn’t looked up at him like he created the stars since she was about seven. But still… He wasn’t ready for her to enter the world of dating and this was the only plan he could come up with on short notice. She’d thrown the idea out that she wanted to go out on a date with this Randy guy just that morning and almost skipped off to catch the bus to school before he managed to tell her that he wanted to meet him before any unsupervised dating was going to happen. Sullenly, she’d agreed and here they were.

“You still a virgin?” Bart asked bluntly.

Randy choked on his saliva, his face going red and a coughing fit coming into play right in front of them.

“Oh my god!” Darcy shrieked, glaring daggers at Bart. “Uncle Bart, that was totally uncalled for!”

“Sounds more like her mother everyday,” Bart muttered.

“That is completely private and it’s obscene that you would ask him that! You barely know him!”

“We’re trying to,” AC defended, turning his eyes away when his “niece” turned her death glare on him.

“This is not a friendly meeting of minds, this is a freakin’ interrogation and it’s got to stop! Now!” she yelled, shaking her head. “Mom would never let this happen! The second she gets home…”

“Your mom would agree that we should meet any boy before you date him,” Oliver replied calmly.

“This isn’t just a simple meet and greet, dad. You’re making him suffer just because you’re not ready to let me grow up. I’m a woman, I can—“

He frowned. “You’re fifteen, Darcy. You’re _barely_ a woman!”

Her vivid green eyes fell shut and she pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath much like his wife did when she was trying to reign in her temper before she completely blew up on him. “Dad,” she said in a harsh whisper. “I understand that you’re looking out for me, but I’m old enough to make my own decisions. I like Randy and he likes me and you… Well, you’re just going to have to get over it.” She stood up from the couch, grabbing her purse. “Are we done here?”

“Just as soon as Randy answers Bart’s question,” he replied stubbornly.

Her eyes widened and her teeth grit. “Dad…”

“Take it or leave it. He can either answer or you can stay here and watch TV with your uncles and me,” he replied almost cheerfully.

“Uh, Mr. Queen, I don’t really, um, feel comfortable, er, talking about this in, uh, in front of…” Randy sighed, eyes turning around wildly as he shifted around uncomfortably.

“Shut up, Randy. You don’t have to answer.”

“That’s not polite, Darciel,” Oliver reprimanded, eyes set on his daughter as they exchanged in a staring contest.

She snorted, her blonde brow lifting. “You want to talk to me about _polite_?”

He sighed. “I’m simply looking out for your well being. You’re fifteen years old. You barely know this boy any better than I do. How can you be sure that he’s at all trustworthy?”

“And asking whether he’s a virgin is going to decide that?” she asked, her voice raising in pitch.

His eyes were beginning to itch, but he’d never lost in a staring contest and he wasn’t about to now. It was the principle of the matter.

“It proves whether or not he has enough sense to date you.”

“So what, if he felt he was ready to have sex before he met me, that makes him unworthy? Or if he made a mistake and later realized he wasn’t ready, he’s still not worthy?” She shook her head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter what he says, because in the end you’re going to decide he’s not good enough. No, I’m not ready enough.”

“Darcy,” Oliver sighed, his shoulders falling slightly.

She shook her head. “Randy is a nice guy and I know one when I see one, all right? I grew up with all four of you! You don’t think I might’ve noticed a few things? He’s smart and funny and he likes me for me. Not for the Queen name or- or because he wants to have sex with me!” Oliver cringed. “Or any of that! He doesn’t do drugs, he doesn’t cheat and he rarely swears. Anything else? You want a DNA sample? A criminal record check? What?”

A door closed in the distance and Oliver unfortunately saw triumph in his daughter’s eyes.

“MOM!” she half-screamed.

“Darcy!” her three uncles said in a hushing tone.

Oliver frowned; the jig was up.

As Chloe Queen entered the living room, she frowned at the scene before her. On one side stood AC and Victor, making imposing figures, and sitting next to them were Oliver and Bart. One of which was sitting on the arm of her sofa, which she had told him repeatedly not to do.

“Bart! Butt in the seat!” she said, motioning.

He glanced at her guiltily before sliding over to sit on the comfy white cushion.

On the other side sat a nervous young man who was shrinking away from the large and quite intimidating picture her husband made in the armchair he sat in. Standing next to him, her shoulders tight and her hand clutching her purse, stood her eldest daughter who looked about ready to beat the four men across from her until they begged forgiveness.

“What’s going on?” Chloe asked, eyes thinned curiously.

“Our favorite niece Darcy here was just introducing us to her new little friend,” Bart explained.

AC shifted around on his feet. “Did you guys here that? I think the phone’s ringing,” he muttered before hurrying off.

“Is that the time? I told Tiffany I’d be home a half hour ago,” Victor excused himself, shrugging slightly at Oliver before he went home to his wife. Chloe frowned knowingly. She just got off the phone with Tiffany, who was putting her and Victor’s son Jake down for his afternoon nap.

Shrugging her coat off, Chloe put it and her purse down on the table next to her before walking further into the living room. She held a hand out to the worried young boy on the couch. “Randy, is it?”

He nodded, smiling at her slightly and shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Queen.”

“Please, call me Chloe,” she told him, smiling.

He nodded, relaxing slightly.

“Anyone care to tell me what’s really going on?” she asked, tone serious and leaving no room for excuses.

“Just trying to get to know Randy a little better,” Bart explained, shrugging slightly.

Chloe turned to him, eyes penetrating.

“Okay, maybe we grilled him a little.” His shoulders slumped. “Come on, Chloelicious! This is baby Darcy we’re talking about!”

Chloe shook her head, her eyes turning upward.

With a sigh, Bart shrugged to Oliver. “You’re on your own, boss man,” he said before hopping off the couch and hurrying out of the room.

Crossing her arms, Chloe walked over to her husband, a brow lifted questioningly. “Oliver?”

He frowned, rising from the chair to stand at least half a foot taller than his wife, but still somehow seeming as though she was the one in charge. “It was harmless,” he told her, jaw still tense. “She’s only fifteen,” he murmured quieter, so only she could hear him.

Lifting up on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “He’s a fifteen year old boy that thinks your daughter is the prettiest girl on the planet. He’s going to be happy just to hold her hand.” She nuzzled his chin with her forehead. “If you don’t trust him, trust our daughter, Ollie.” Her fingers threaded through his hair, playing with it in a very relaxing way. “Do you really think she’d do anything you wouldn’t approve of?”

“She brought him home didn’t she?” he muttered, turning his eyes down toward his beautiful wife.

She smiled at him brilliantly, amused by his answer. “Think hard, Ollie. Is it that you don’t approve of him, her dating, or simply letting her grow up?”

He frowned. He hated it when she was right; which was often; far too often.

Instead of replying, he leaned forward and kissed her temple, sighing in defeat.

“Besides,” she whispered close to his ear. “Braydon is over at Josh’s house tonight and Kyle is away all weekend for his soccer game out of town,” she reminded, voice suggestive and low.

His arms wrapped low around her waist, fingers stroking the small of her back over her sweater. The house was all theirs; well, if he got rid of the League brothers for the night. He forgot his youngest, Braydon, who just turned ten, had asked if he could stay over at his best friend’s place down the road. Kyle, thirteen but already acting like he was king of the world, had left earlier that afternoon with his team on the bus specifically rented for their big game. They were staying in a nice hotel over night, playing Saturday and returning Sunday. It was unusual for them to have the place to themselves, which in all honesty left little time for them to enjoy each other’s company. What with him off doing his Green Arrow duties at night and playing father/husband/CEO during the day, he didn’t have much time outside of that. And then she had her work at the Star City Gazette as editor and then played mother of three 24/7 and Watchtower all night long. Actually, he rather felt like a nap. God, he was getting old. When he felt her hands slide up his back, he decided napping could wait.

His hands slid up her back slowly and she knew she’d won.

“All right,” Chloe said, turning her gaze toward Randy and Darcy who had been whispering to each other and leaning in close. “Curfew’s midnight and no later. You’re one minute late and your cell phone is mine for the month!”

Darcy frowned. “My curfew’s eleven,” she reminded honestly, her brows furrowed.

Chloe sighed, rolling her eyes. “The oblivious nature comes from you, not me,” she told her husband. “Isn’t your dad nice? Giving you an _extra_ hour to make up for the interrogation he just put Randy through?”

Catching on, Darcy nodded hastily. “Oh, right, yeah! Thanks daddy,” she said, hurrying over to kiss his cheek and then hug her mom briefly before she grabbed Randy’s hand and drug him off the couch, practically running toward the door.

Chloe laughed, shaking her head slightly before she leaned her forehead against Oliver’s chest and sighed. “She had to grow up someday,” she told him.

He sighed, arms tightening around her. “Did it have to be so soon?”

She rubbed his back. “You remember when you met my dad?”

He winced. Not a comfortable day.

“I was twenty-four, Ollie,” she reminded, shaking her head. “Just because she’s growing up, doesn’t mean she’s growing out of you. She’ll always be your daughter; she’s just got to experience life her own way.”

He knew she was right, but still. He rested his chin on top of her head and ran his hands around her back soothingly. She felt so soft and pliant against him. And the house was entirely quiet, meaning Victor, AC, and Bart had all bailed. So with his three kids out of the house, his three teammates back to their own wives and children, it was all him and Chloe. Smoothing his hand down her side, he slid it up beneath her shirt and caressed the soft skin of her back. She shivered and he grinned. He loved that he could still get that reaction out of her. Eighteen years of marriage and that heat was still strong between them. He felt her palms journey up his sides, fingers kneading at him.

“Well, the house is empty, Mr. Queen, what are your plans for the night?” she wondered, tipping her head back to look at him through lowered lashes, her green eyes pooling with desire.

He smirked slowly. “Let me show you,” he said, drawing her closer, delighting in her gasp as her body melded tight against his and his hands fell lower, cupping her bottom. It was going to be an interesting evening.


	56. Secrets Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had his suspicions and now they were confirmed

It was one thing not to tell someone you’re from a different planet and have super powers that no other human could possibly possess than to admit to your best friend that you were dating a mutual friend. Clark Kent couldn’t see the reasoning behind Chloe keeping such a secret. It had taken him awhile to figure it out. He’d been busy with other things so her romantic life hadn’t exactly fit into the grand scheme of things. But then he realized something was going on and late one evening, when Oliver was nowhere to be seen when he was usually out patrolling, Clark stopped by his apartment to make sure the leather clad hero hadn’t gotten himself into trouble.

He noticed her shoes first. A pair of flats that sat against the wall by an end table equipped with a dish holding her car keys; the dangling gold planet key chain he bought her an obvious tip off. Her laptop was sitting closed on the coffee table, next to a nearly empty mug of coffee, her favorite kind. And he could smell the lingering scent of her perfume in the air, though he knew she hadn’t been walking around said living room for hours. And if that wasn’t enough to prove she was there, he could hear her heartbeat; the one he’d long picked out and always paid close attention to. She was always getting herself into trouble; he had to keep an ear out for her.

He flopped down on an armchair, not entirely sure what he was feeling over this… Betrayal? It wasn’t as if Oliver was a rival of his. Quite the opposite. Still though; it just didn’t seem right. He was her boss and their friend and Lois’ ex. He blushed slightly, realizing his own hypocritical thought process.

The door adjacent to him opened and his eyes adjusted to catch the slim form of his best friend as she left Oliver’s bedroom, dressed only in a much-too-large-for-her male bathrobe. Green, of course. She was rubbing at her eyes and yawning as she walked across the living room, unknowing of his presence, too tired to pay much attention. The way she managed to weave toward the kitchen, despite being tired and having her eyes nearly completely closed, told him this wasn’t the first time she’d spent the night. If anything, she was here more than he’d suspected. He wasn’t sure how long it had been going on; he’d only begun to wonder a week prior. Looked as though his suspicions had been confirmed.

She came to a sudden halt, her brow furrowing and she turned toward him. “Clark?” she asked, voice rough with sleep and disbelief. “What are you doing here so late?”

He stood up, sighing. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

She put her hands on her waist and looked up at him rather censuring, shaking her head slightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he wondered, rather hurt. Maybe it wasn’t even that she was dating, but that she hadn’t told him.

She didn’t reply right away, staring at him for a moment before she sighed. She lifted a shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Lois, Clark?” she asked, smiling slightly at his embarrassed expression.

He rubbed the back of his neck, turning away slightly. “You know about that?”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Of course I do.”

He sighed. “It was complicated. I mean…We don’t even really know what we are…”

She nodded, lifting a hand to run through her hair. His eyes naturally fell downward and he caught sight of the ample swell of her breast. He swallowed tightly. His eyes lifted abruptly toward her face and she motioned toward the kitchen. She walked off, the satin green bathrobe dragging behind her on the floor. She flipped the light on and walked to the sink, filling a tall glass with water. She motioned to him, asking if he was thirsty and he shook his head.

She leaned back against the counter, sipping from her glass of water and staring at him over the rim. The silence was uncomfortable and he found his eyes kept falling down toward her cleavage. He’d long ago learned that his feelings for Chloe were meant to be platonic, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice she was beautiful. Briefly, a vision of Lois, naked and sprawled out beneath him flashed through his mind and he cleared his throat. One minute they’d been having their usual bicker filled fights and the next they were going at it against a wall. It was one of the most intense moments of his life. He still couldn’t believe it had been with Lois, of all people.

Shaking his head, he tried to focus on the situation at hand. “When’d you two start, uh…?” He trailed off, eyes glancing away.

“He asked me out to coffee a few months ago and things just… progressed,” she admitted with a slight shrug.

He turned back to her, wanting to ask why. Why him? Why now?

“He gets me,” she replied, as if reading his mind.

“Gets you?” he asked. Did that mean he didn’t? Was there something he was missing? Had he been falling down in the best friend category lately? Sure he’d been busy. Living life as Clark Kent was never really boring. But he thought he’d been there. He always tried to make time for her. She was one of the most important people in his life.

“It’s hard to explain,” she murmured, sighing. “He just…” She shrugged. “He gets me,” she repeated. “My drive and my curiosity and my obsession with coffee.” She laughed lightly, smiling up at him. “I can talk to him for hours about nothing and everything and… And he listens.”

His brow furrowed.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t, Clark. It just means that… That he listens in a different way.” She sighed, gaze falling.

There was silence again and he was reminded of the old saying that when two people could stand the silence, they’d found their other half. He felt uncomfortable; like he was waiting for something to happen. He loved Chloe, but it wasn’t that kind of love. He ignored the voice that whispered Lois in his ear and tried to focus back on the blonde who kept yawning in front of him. The robe had slipped some more and he shifted on his feet as his eyes were drawn to the soft skin that made the valley between her breasts, leading down to her ribs. He should tell her it was falling, he knew. He opened his mouth, his cheeks already flushing. He lifted an arm to motion toward the robe but it wasn’t noticed.

Oliver entered the kitchen, so quiet Clark hadn’t even heard him coming. As he passed Chloe, he stopped, reaching out to adjust her robe. His hands didn’t shake and he didn’t look uncomfortable with her nudity in the least. He simply closed it over her, kissing her forehead and rubbing her hip with his thumb. He glanced at Clark, his expression one of knowing. He didn’t bother with excuses, instead nodding before he took the glass of half empty water from Chloe as she handed it to him. He finished it off and then placed the glass in the sink. Without apology, he simply squeezed Chloe’s hand and crossed the kitchen once more. “Wake me up when you’re done talking,” he said to her quietly.

She nodded and he didn’t have to turn around, already knowing she’d agree.

“Night Clark,” he called back, walking off toward his bedroom once more.

It was in that moment, as he reflected on the ease with which they interacted, that they actually worked well together. Not just in a professional manner, but in something much deeper than that. They had an obvious chemistry that he had to wonder if he’d just gotten used to it or if he really was as oblivious as so many had accused him of being. For months he’d simply ignored the way they seemed to understand what the other was thinking without having to ask or say anything. Or how they anticipated one another’s moves; she’d pass him a folder and he’d just naturally take it, as if he knew when she’d pass it to him without having any previous warning. And he was tender with her; in a way he wasn’t even with Lois. He treated her like a woman, not like just another one of the team. Clark could admit that sometimes he forgot Chloe’s gender in favor of talking to her as a neutral person in situations. But Oliver saw a woman, loved her and touched her and kissed her like the woman she was. And she needed that; deserved that.

“Lois and I are different. I don’t know what we are. But you and Oliver… you know exactly what you are, don’t you?” he asked, lifting a brow as he crossed his arms over his chest.

She smiled. “I love him.”

He smiled lightly. “And he loves you.”

“I like to think so,” she replied nodding. Despite always coming off as that confident investigative reporter, she could still insecure about things, even when the answer was so obvious.

Clark lifted a brow. “He does.”

She smiled, almost in relief. “Not really used to this,” she admitted. “Equal footing, no surprise meteor background.” She laughed, slightly stiff.

“He’s a good guy, Chloe.” He reached out, squeezing her upper arm. “You’re happy with him, aren’t you?”

She looked up at him and he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks or if her eyes were slightly teary. “Very, very happy,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Good.”

She sniffled, nodding. “Glad we had this heart to heart. But, uh, shouldn’t you be off fighting with my cousin? Or is it sleeping with her this week?” she teased.

He rolled his eyes, clearing his throat. “Who knows with her,” he muttered.

She laughed, eyes lighting up with humor.

“No more secrets, all right?” he asked, smiling.

She held her hand out as if to seal the deal with a handshake. “Guess I should tell you I’m pregnant than, huh?”

“What?” he said, loud and shocked.

She burst into laughed. “Kidding! Geez, Clark, have you no faith in me?”

He sighed, restraining him from giving her a little shake to knock some sense into her. “Ah and for a moment I thought I’d have to delight of hearing Lois rant about becoming an aunt.”

“Shut up,” she told him, frowning.

He pulled her by her hand until he was hugging her. “I’m happy for you, you know.”

She sighed, almost in relief. “You should be.”

There was something in the way she said it.

When they finally pulled back, he walked with her back into the living room, flicking the light off in the kitchen as they went. He watched her cross toward Oliver’s bedroom and turned to go toward the front door. He glanced back to see her new hero standing in the doorway, arms wrapping lightly around her waist. “That was fast,” Oliver murmured against her hair.

“He knows me,” she replied. “He trusts me.”

Together, the couple walked back into the bedroom and Clark realized that this was how it was supposed to be. He was a little hesitant to say he and Lois were meant to be together, but he knew that Chloe and Oliver were. There was something in the way he looked at her, held her, spoke to her. And it was returned in the way she leaned into him, unafraid to rely on his strength to keep her up. Maybe he wasn’t her one and only hero now, but he knew he was leaving her in good hands. He was going to have to let her go someday. At least now he knew she was with somebody worthy of her.

With a sigh, he left the apartment and took the elevator down. He felt a buzz at his hip and his brow furrowed. Digging around in his pocket, he pulled out a cell phone that wasn’t his. “Uh, hello?”

“Smallville! What the hell are you doing with my phone?”

He rolled his eyes. “Answering it, obviously.”

She scoffed. “Well, I need it. Where are you and how fast can you be here?”

He grinned slightly. There was no way that her phone got into his pocket without a little doing on her part. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Maybe he and Lois weren’t a total bust after all.


	57. His Number One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s no one more important than his Chloe.

Natasha Erins was not in a good mood. She stood impatiently in the elevator, her toe tapping angrily. It rose higher and higher, up toward Oliver’s apartment, where she expected him to be. He hadn’t called with some work emergency, hadn’t given her a heads up on cancelling their dinner date or anything. While Oliver had always been attentive in the beginning, his attention had been waning from her and she didn’t like it. When it was work, she could understand his responsibilities elsewhere. But she knew this was not one of those occasions. It was something else entirely and it was far worse.

As the elevator dinged, she pushed the cage doors open and stepped out. As soon as she heard the raucous voices from the room down the hall, she knew exactly what took place. It only made her more pissed. She practically stomped toward the living room, briefly wondering if it was bad for her Prada heels.

As she entered the room, she found Oliver with his arms wrapped around her competition. Admittedly, she could tell he was trying to show her a move on the Playstation controller in her hand, but still.

“No, no, like this,” he told her, grinning. He pushed down on the button a couple times and the blonde beauty in his arms nodded slightly, the top of her head bumping his chin. He kissed her hair before laughing as her guy on the screen died brutally.

“It’s X not O, isn’t it?” she sighed.

He nodded before retracting his arm from her shoulders and picking up his controller. “Okay, one more time and then we’ll get dinner.”

She bumped into his shoulder. “No more Chinese.”

He groaned, frowning. “I was really craving egg rolls though.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re always craving egg rolls. I want pizza; a large supreme with extra cheese and stuffed crust.”

“Try to keep the drool at a minimum, Sidekick,” he told her, pressing down hard on his controller as he battled some grotesque monster on the screen.

It miffed Natasha even more that they could continue on like usual, no idea that she was there, watching and incensed. This wasn’t unusual, though. It was just the opposite, which was the problem. If Oliver wasn’t with her, he was with his precious Chloe. Ninety percent of his phone calls were from her and he was always talking about something or other he and his Chlo did that day. She understood that they were close friends, maybe even best friends. But that didn’t mean that Chloe had to take up the majority of his time. Some of it should be reserved for her. Her, who wanted to go to a nice restaurant and show off her incredibly sexy billionaire boyfriend to the twenty or so of her friends that she’d ordered to go to the same restaurant so they too could relish in his awesome looks and jealously wish they were her.

Instead, she looked like an idiot sitting on her couch, waiting for hours for him to pick her up. She fended off the three phone calls the restaurant made to her and finally told them to just give the table away when it hit the three hour mark. The only reason they waited so long was because she kept reminding them it was Oliver Queen who would be eating with her. Wearing an expensive dress, her best shoes, and bathed in perfume that cost her a good four credit cards to buy, she looked way overdressed for their little night in with the PS3 and their pizza dinner.

She watched as they sat shoulder to shoulder, laughing and shrieking in triumph or dramatic anger as they played around with no cares in the world. This was where she and Oliver differed. She wanted the glamorous life; the paparazzi and the tabloids and the money that could get her everything. She wanted to look good with such a delicious slab of man on her arm and show the world that she snared what everyone else wished they could. Instead, it was nothing like what she’d expected. Sure he was charming and handsome and he lived up to his reputation of being an incredible lover, but he wasn’t who she’d thought he’d be. He was a regular guy; he wasn’t overly romantic, instead rather reserved. He had his secrets and he didn’t look like he was going to be spilling them to her anytime soon. Or ever. He was always busy and he spent more time with his blonde “Sidekick” than he did anybody else. She wanted to say she wasn’t jealous, but she was. Maybe Chloe Sullivan wasn’t blessed with Natasha’s cleavage or her naturally perfect figure, flawless skin, and radiant black hair that hung to her hips. She didn’t live in upper Metropolis or have a list of boyfriends that rivaled Paris Hiltons, ranging from quarterbacks to heirs, but she was Ollie’s number one girl.

And Natasha came to the annoying understanding that nothing was going to change that. “Oliver?” she called out, a rather reserved tone to her voice.

Startled, Oliver turned around and nearly jumped up from the floor. “Nat? Uh, why are you… What are you doing here?” he asked, too surprised to even put on the usual Queen charisma.

She lifted a brow and waited only a minute before his eyes widened in realization.

“Dinner, tonight, at that Italian restaurant.” He frowned. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Got caught up.” She nodded, glancing at Chloe who was avoiding her gaze and pausing the game. She stood up slowly, reaching for her coat and purse.

“I’m just going to…” She pointed toward the door.

“No,” both Natasha and Oliver said at the same time.

Natasha glared at Oliver before turning toward Chloe. “You stay, I’ll leave.” She lifted a shoulder, smiling as though it didn’t bother her in the least. “We’re done, Queen. And FYI, you can easily afford a day planner. I suggest you get one.” With that and a hair flip, she turned on her Prada heels and walked toward the elevator with flair. He’d regret it one day, she decided. He may have his exciting little investigative reporter, but one day her charm would wear off and he’d realize he could’ve had Natasha and her perfect curves. But he lost out. With a sigh, she leaned to one side and smiled. She heard Stavros Niarchos was on the market again. She pulled her cell phone out and perused her contacts for his number. He’d cheer her up. Maybe with a nice little day trip on his yacht.

**II**

Alyssa Rembrandt was not having the best birthday. Her friends were all around her, oohing over presents and eating cake. They were sipping champagne and chatting amongst themselves. She’d lucked out in the present’s department and the company was fabulous as usual. But one person was missing; her boyfriend of three weeks. Sure they’d only just really gotten together, but he was expected to be there and he should’ve been. He told her he wouldn’t miss it for the world, those were his exact words, but he was nowhere to be found. She jiggled her knee up and down, her leg twitching with her irritation. The flute of champagne she was drinking was now warm and her smile was fake whenever somebody looked over to the birthday girl. She should’ve known this would happen. She’d been warned, but did she listen? No, of course not. He’d given her that charming smile and she was putty in his hands.

With a deep breath, she decided then and there that he had better have the best explanation in the world or she was going to have to cut him loose. If this was any kind of example of what their relationship would be like, she wasn’t going to hold onto him. She took a new flute from a silver tray as a waiter passed her by and turned toward her friend at her left. “Let’s start the drinking games. It’ll get everybody ready for truth and dare,” she suggested. The crowd around her cheered; maybe her birthday wasn’t a total bust.

By morning the next day, she found out from a mutual friend that he was at the hospital. She’d had a small panic attack when she was first told, only to learn that he wasn’t the one who was injured. She was stuck between anger and understanding and as she showed up at the hospital, she was still warring with her emotions. She found the room easily, only having to ask one nurse for directions. As she approached the room, she felt her knees wobble just slightly. A voice inside her head told her she could just walk away, forget all about confrontations and learn to live with his lifestyle. She knew how strong friendships could be; she was willing to die for any one of her three best friends. But something about his relationship with Chloe Sullivan rubbed her the wrong way.

As she pushed the door open just slightly, she spotted the bed near the window, the only one in the room. He obviously paid for her to have her own special, private suite. Chloe was fast asleep, her face banged up and bandages covering various scrapes over her arms, neck and face. And sitting in the chair next to her, hunched over with his face turned to the side on the bed, staring up at her worriedly, was Oliver. His hand was wrapped in hers, fingers twined in a most intimate way.

The young reporter stirred, eyes fluttering open and a tiny, sleepy smile showing as she spotted Oliver.

“Tell me you haven’t been here all day,” she murmured in a croaky voice.

He smiled, though it looked more pained than anything. “You know I can’t lie to you, Sidekick.”

She never quite understood the meaning of that nickname. Alyssa had asked him once but he’d changed the subject.

“It’s just a little concussion,” Chloe told him.

He rolled his eyes, cracking a real smile this time. “It’s a sprained wrist, broken ankle, shattered rib, and bruised larynx.”

“What’d you do? Memorize my records?” she teased, brow quirking.

He glanced down at the sheet, his thumb rubbing circles on her hand. “You were out a long time.”

“That’s what happens when people sleep.”

He shook his head. “Reminded me of all those times…” he trailed off.

She unclasped their hands and reached out, her IV hanging down from her wrist as her palm cupped Oliver’s cheek. “You worry too much,” she told him, rubbing the underside of his eye.

He covered her hands with his, eyes closing. “Your fault.”

She exhaled slowly before running her hand over his hair. “You’re not living up to your number one bachelor profile, Queen. Wrinkled suit, ungelled hair, no shave…” She smiled. “Not a bad look.”

“Get some more sleep; you’re getting delusional,” he told her, smiling lightly.

“Thought you worried when I slept too long,” she mumbled tiredly.

“Now that you’ve woken up, I know you’ll be fine.” His tone was so serious, so worried.

“I’ll always be fine,” she assured, eyes falling shut and hand slipping from his hair to lie back down on the bedspread.

He wrapped his long fingers with hers once more and nodded as he leaned back in the comfortable chair he sat in. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Alyssa stepped back from the door and swallowed tightly. Well that was it then. The chapter of her life involving Oliver Queen was officially over. She pulled out her phone and decided that she’d text him the news instead of talk to him face to face. She wasn’t sure she could get through that charming smile of his. Not when she knew that it wasn’t truly genuine. His real smile was reserved for the small blonde sleeping at his side.

With a sigh, she walked away.

**III**

Victoria Strathcome’s night was not going as planned. She’d entered the gala on the arm of one of the most handsome men in history. Decked out in a strapless gown that hugged all of her curves, she looked simply radiant. Diamonds in each ear and a pearl necklace around her neck, she was ready for a night of hobnobbing with the rich and famous. Instead, she was stuck by the buffet, waving off filthy advances from men who wish they could get within five feet of her. Her date, boyfriend of four months, Oliver Queen, was currently having the time of his life, out on the dance floor with his best friend. Her date was nowhere to be found, of course. Victoria hid her scowl well. She didn’t want premature wrinkles, after all.

Ever since she met Oliver at a charity banquet she’d known of his history. Plenty of girls had warned her of his ways. In fact, close friend Natasha Erins told her that there was no point in chasing after Queen; he was hooked already, even if he didn’t know it. But Victoria wasn’t one to walk away from a good thing. He was handsome, rich, and damn near exhausting in bed. Growing up with parents that were always away for business taught her how to handle his various work related trips and she’d happily found some other hot young man to shack up with until Oliver came back, but this was not how she was going out.

She knew that they wouldn’t last. She wasn’t a one guy kind of girl. She liked to play around, see what was out there, and enjoy herself immensely. And frankly, being tied down with 2.5 would do nothing for her hips. She didn’t bother telling Oliver that, seeing as he wasn’t the shining example of monogamy. Sure he didn’t openly date three or five woman at a time, although he easily he could, but it was well known in the gossip circles that he was head over Armani shoes for best friend, Chloe Sullivan. Some run of the mill reporter that probably didn’t even know what a Versaci dress looked like up close.

Victoria had met her, of course. Everybody who knew Oliver eventually met his “Chlo,” and while anybody who hadn’t dated him had shining reviews for her - she’s funny, interesting, smart, and charming, they’d all tell her - anyone who had dated Oliver knew that Chloe only made things difficult. Oliver Queen went nowhere without some kind of connection with his little Sidekick. Whether he was on the phone with her, texting her, or standing at her side, his attention was almost entirely reserved for her. Business often took him away but Victoria knew that oftentimes Chloe went with. And if she didn’t, she was the first he went to. It wasn’t girlfriends or work associates or anything similar. It was always straight to Chloe. They’d order in and watch movies or play video games and it was strictly the two of them. No girlfriends, boyfriends, or other friends allowed. It was an Oliver/Chloe night; officially.

Victoria didn’t much care; that is until she got completely ignored, and in public no less!

She could handle the lack of phone calls to let her know where he was or when he was coming back. She could put up with the wonky schedule he kept; leaving her high and dry on dates because of some work emergency. She could even put up with his Chloe/Oliver nights and his obvious love for his best friend. But she would not be publicly humiliated by him. While he was off dancing his cute little ass of with Ms. Perfection, Victoria was stuck pretending she didn’t care and that just wouldn’t do. She was supposed to show all the other ex’s that she could do what they couldn’t and instead she ended up looking like she was just second best.

He was twirling Chloe around, arms wrapped tight against her body, a grin on his face and laughter rumbling out of his chest as he spoke quietly with her. All the world was ignored as he fell into his tunnel vision alterna-world where Chloe was the star and nobody else existed. Victoria had put up with it as long as she could. She didn’t want a ring or kids or even the three infamous words. She wanted to look good, make a whole lot of other people jealous, and be the first and likely only woman to ever walk away from a relationship with Oliver Queen unscathed and heart intact.

She watched, fuming on the inside, as he paid no attention to his bored-out-of-her-mind and fuming date, instead kissing his best friend’s cheek and whispering something against her ear, eyes drawn downward in an adoring expression. How could he do this to her? Let the whole room see who he was obviously in love with? It made it look like she, the Victoria Strathcome, couldn’t keep her man’s attention for longer than five minutes. He’d entered the gala, charmingly taken her coat for her, walked her into the main room, spotted Chloe, and was gone.

“I thought he was your date,” she heard from her side.

She turned, a stiff smile on her face as she looked over to the severe woman next to her. Gloria Benness – just one of the biggest gossips in high society. She was probably the richest woman in the room, as well. Four husbands later and she was rolling in the riches and didn’t bother hiding it.

“He is,” Victoria told her, lifting her chin. “That’s just a good friend of his. He noticed her date had run off with someone else and didn’t want her to feel rejected.”

“Really?” Gloria tipped her head, mouth pursing. “Because it looks an awful lot like he’s dancing with the love of his life, while you were brushed off.” She turned toward her, a brow lifting. “Don’t worry, dear. It happens to them all. You’re just another name on the list, I’m afraid.” She gave a short laugh that was effortlessly mocking. “You didn’t really think you could turn his head for long, did you?” She smiled insincerely. “Better luck next time.” With that, she walked off, waving to a few “old money” types.

Victoria sneered at the woman, though she couldn’t see her and then turned her attention back to Oliver and Chloe, just as her boyfriend dipped his best friend back before drawing her up in a quick sweep. Their faces were so close for a moment she wondered if they might kiss, instead they smiled at each other and the intrepid reporter pressed a cheek against Oliver’s shoulder while his arms lazily encircled her, chin resting on the top of her head.

It was worth a try, Victoria decided. She glanced across the room and spotted Chloe’s date; a handsome young man with a killer smile. All is fair in love and war. She grinned to herself before walking toward the unsuspecting male.

**VI**

Michelle Allen knew from the start. She met Oliver in the coffee shop she worked in. Every day he ordered the same thing, one for himself and the other for Chloe. For reasons she still didn’t quite know, she had accepted when he asked her out to dinner. That was six months prior and while she didn’t exactly regret the decision, she knew that there was no way she could stay with him. His heart wasn’t in it and if she stayed much longer, she wouldn’t have a heart left. He was a good man; nice, funny, charitable, and honest. He was handsome and charismatic and he never made her feel left out. But while he may have loved her, he was nowhere near in love with her.

She saw the way he looked at Chloe. She noticed the way his hand always found hers or how easily he was physically comfortable with her. It took awhile before he was at a stage where he could intimately kiss Michelle. Or hug her, hold her, cuddle with her. He was stoic and reserved and he didn’t like flaunting his feelings to the outside world. But when he was with Chloe those boundaries disappeared entirely. His arm naturally wrapped around her waist or his hand fell to the small of her back. If her bangs fell across her face, he brushed them away absently. Michelle had seen him nap with Chloe, arms wrapped tight around her as they slept on the couch after a late night of work that she wasn’t allowed to know about. She’d seen him freak out when Chloe was hurt or worry when she hadn’t called in a couple days. She’d seen him excited when Chloe got her first byline or annoyed when she got passed over for a good position. Sometimes it felt more like she was the friend, watching in on his relationship with Chloe rather than herself.

For awhile she’d let it go. She really did love him and she had hoped that he could love her back. That maybe one day he would look at her like he did Chloe, or even hold her the same way. That he might use that same husky tone that came out when he was whispering to her or that he’d finish her sentences as if reading her thoughts. But he never did. He was attracted to her, sure. And he really did care about her. He learned to schedule time for dates and he never forgot a really big milestone or celebration. He was there for her brother’s graduation, despite only having met him a few times, and he’d come along for her parents anniversary party, acting as charming as ever. But he was more distant than he needed to be and his feelings for her had hit their peak. He wasn’t going to wake up one morning and shout words of tenderness to her or anything similar. His heart had been given away long ago, he just hadn’t accepted it.

Michelle was a simple girl. She didn’t have billions of dollars and she really didn’t care to. She loved her family more than anything and she’d give the world to her friends if they asked. She was balancing her job at the coffee shop with her studies at college so she could own her own bakery. She didn’t care for the limelight and she didn’t go out of her way to get people to notice the fact that she was with the most handsome billionaire alive. She was content with a low key relationship that was just between the two of them. But then she realized that it would never really be that way.

So when the time came, she gathered up her strength and walked into his apartment office, where he was hard at work and very distracted. She waited for him to finish his phone call and then stated quite calmly, “I’m done.”

Confused, he shook his head, slowly rising from the seat.

She lifted a hand. She didn’t need him coming over, staring into her with his warm brown eyes and changing her mind. “I love you, Ollie. I really do. But you don’t love me.”

His brow furrowed. “I do. I—“

“You’re not in love with me, Oliver,” she told him, slightly exasperated. “You’re in love with her.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Is this about Chloe? Because I told you, we’re friends and that’s all.”

“Is that all you want to be?” she asked, point blank, staring at him with serious eyes.

He paused for only a moment and she knew that he knew what he really felt. “Yes. Of course,” he lied.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how long it’s been or how long you’re going to avoid it. But you’re in love with Chloe and she’s in love with you. And I honestly hope you do the rest of the female population a big favor and just accept it already. You’ve broken enough hearts, I’m sure.” She sniffled, cursing herself for showing weakness. “They come and go, these women who think maybe they can change it. Maybe they can make you fall out of love with her and into love with them. But it’s never going to happen!” She threw her arms up. “Your heart is set on her. Everything you do or say or think, it all relates back to her. I know it, she knows it, the whole god damn world knows it, Oliver!” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I’m not going to fight the inevitable,” she whispered sadly.

Some part of her wanted him to fight for her, but she knew that he wouldn’t.

He stared at her in reserved acceptance. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, when the silence felt suffocating.

“I know.” She nodded. “Not sorry enough to let her go though.”

Swallowing, he shook his head, eyes turning away.

Yeah, that’s what she thought.

Licking her lips in a typically uncomfortable fashion, she stepped back. “Be happy,” she told him, before turning and leaving his apartment, never to step foot in it again. She wouldn’t look back, she wouldn’t regret it. Not saying hello or goodbye. She hoped he finally saw the light, because she honestly wouldn’t wish her broken heart on her worst enemy.

**V**

Chloe Sullivan had no idea what was going to happen when she walked into Oliver’s apartment. She’d been there a million and one times before, but as she entered the living room, she realized she’d never seen it so… romantically lit. There were candles everywhere, tulip petals strewn around and some music playing in the background. As she shed her jacket and tugged off her scarf, her brow furrowed in confusion. She checked her watch to make sure she got the time right. He told her to be there at nine sharp and after finishing up a few things at The Daily Planet she’d hurried over. She left her bag at the door, alongside her shoes and stretched her arms above her head to uncramp her back. She wondered if he would give her a back massage if she begged him to.

Ever since Clark had taken on his position as Superman three years prior, she found herself growing closer to Oliver. She didn’t want to say he replaced Clark, but he filled in at first and then eventually grew to have his own special place in her life. With Clark now spending half of his time trying to win over Lois and the other half saving the city, Chloe spent the majority of her time working or with Oliver. She’d seen his many relationship crash and burn, not feeling the least bit sorry for all but one. Michelle had been a sweet woman and she’d honestly hoped it wouldn’t end badly. She admitted - only to herself while in dark rooms, where she could pretend it was all a dream - that her feelings had long ago heightened from just friendship for her green leathered best friend. She wasn’t willing to admit it to anyone else though, no matter how much Lois nagged her.

She was content with what she was to him. She was the first person he called for anything, good or bad. The first person he thought of in all circumstances. When he arrived home, he called her up for a night all their own. When he left, he called to tell her he’d landed okay. They kept their friendship alive through texting, phone calls and e-mails when he was away for long periods and when he came back, she practically lived in his apartment with all the time they spent catching up. He was her rock; the person she could lean on for anything. When she was hurt or in danger, he was always there to help her; Clark was too, of course. But she found that lately it was Oliver’s arms around her that did the best comforting. He was her ear for listening and her shoulder to cry on and she was his. They grew to rely on each other and it wasn’t long before she could honestly admit to herself that she was in love with him. She never told him, of course. One of the few secrets she ever kept from him.

Currently, she was feeling uncomfortable and out of place. She wondered if maybe she should check her phone and see if he hadn’t perhaps reconciled with Michelle and wanted to move their hang out time back a day. But just as she was reaching for her cell phone, she heard him hang up his phone and walk toward her. He grinned widely, obviously not surprised by her being there.

“Uh, did I just walk in on something?” she asked, brow lifted.

He shook his head. Not bothering to answer her unasked question. “Thirsty?”

“Sure. I’ll have—“

“Red wine,” he finished, nodding with a smile. “No work tomorrow; you usually have red wine when you know you can sleep in.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You tend to oversleep when you’ve had a few glasses the night before.”

She simply nodded. He knew her too well.

He walked back into the kitchen and returned with her glass, holding a beer by its neck. He nodded toward the couch and walked over to take a seat. Following, she plopped down beside him, one of her legs curling beneath her. “How’re you handling everything after Michelle?” she asked, tone soft so not to make it sound like she was prying.

He lifted a shoulder. “I’m actually okay with it. She said a lot of things that…” He smiled slightly in a rather knowing way. “Made sense.” He looked over at her through the corner of his eyes and she felt her stomach squirm. In the dim lighting, it made the plains of his face stand out even more.

She’d always known he was handsome, it was hard to miss, but sometimes he really did take her breath away. “Like what?” she asked, hoping her voice wasn’t quite as husky as she thought it was. Her mind was whirring with lascivious thoughts involving him; sweaty and tense beneath her. She cleared her throat, turning her eyes away and trying to focus on the conversation at hand.

“Just that I was avoiding the inevitable; that what I wanted was right in front of me and I knew it, but I wouldn’t accept it.” He lifted a shoulder and her eyes fell back to his, a wrinkle marring her forehead. “You’re the most important person in my life, you know that?”

Surprised, she smiled. “Bart’s going to be so jealous,” she murmured teasingly.

He didn’t laugh or even smile, still so serious. “In my line of work, I probably shouldn’t put so much emphasis on one person.” He paused for a moment, swallowing tightly. “But when it comes to you, I can’t help it.” He shook his head. “Pretty much all of my relationships fail because I think of you before any of them. I ignored them and forgot about them and just plain sucked as a boyfriend.” He chuckled humorlessly. “I let them fall in love with me knowing full well that I would never return the feeling.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand…”

He reached out, hand cupping her cheek, thumb rubbing gently against her skin. “I’ve been in love with you for I don’t know how long and I don’t want to avoid it anymore.” He smiled, almost hesitantly, as if unsure how she might react. “You’re the most incredible woman –person- I’ve ever met and I don’t want to just be your friend anymore. I want you – all of you.” He grinned. “If you’ll let me.”

She bit her lip. It wasn’t dark and it was no dream and all those time she’d admitted her feelings only to take them back a second later were long gone. She nodded slowly, her teeth freeing her bottom lip as she smiled. “Took you long enough,” she murmured.

He laughed before leaning in, pulling her face closer until finally they were kissing. Her eyes fell shut almost immediately and her heart sped up until it felt as though it were going to burst right out of her chest. His lips were so soft and his tongue so hot and he smelled delicious as he drew her up against him. Spicy and fresh and hot. Her arms wrapped around his neck as her front molded to his. One of her hands delved into his hair while her mouth met each brush of his lips. Teeth grazed over her swollen lips, tongue lapping at the puffy flesh a second later.

She’d imagined this moment a million times in the past. As he held her during movies or while they walked down the street; when he kissed her hair each time she left or hugged her tightly whenever they met again. But a dream was no match for the intensity behind his kiss. Years of built up attraction and emotion burst between them and she ignored the overwhelming need for air just to keep kissing him a little longer. His body felt so hard and warm and his tongue felt velvety soft tangling with hers. One of her hands curled around the shoulder of his shirt, fingers tightening in the fabric desperately. God, he tasted so good.

There was a loud buzz in the background that awoke them from their rapturous stupor and they parted, panting harshly.

“What was that?” she asked, licking her lips.

He grinned. “That would be our Chinese food.”

She shook her head in amusement. “Extra egg rolls?”

He hopped up from the couch. “You know it,” he called back to her as he walked toward the elevator to let the delivery guy in. “Hey, you want to—“

“Get the Playstation ready? I’m on it,” she finished, nodding as she slipped off the couch and crawled toward the TV.

A few minutes later, he reentered the living room, brown bags full of their food in his arms. He smirked at her in a way that could only mean mischief. “Wanna raise the stakes?”

She lifted a brow. “What do you have in mind?”

“I win this game, you take off a piece of clothing, and vice versa,” he said, sitting down at the coffee table and popping open the bags.

She grinned. “I like the way you think,” she said, agreeing. While he was busy getting their dinner out, she unpaused the game and started kicking the crap out of his immobile figure.

“Cheater!” he shouted, laughing as he abandoned the food to grab his controller.

“You know you love me,” she replied smiling.

He turned to her, distracting her for a moment as he kissed her tenderly. She was rendered speechless and in shock for a moment as her whole body radiated with warmth. It just felt so right. As she came back to her senses, she realized he knew exactly what would happen and was now kicking her ass on the giant screen in front of them.

Shaking her head, her thumbs started moving around wildly on the controller. “Prepare to lose your pants, Queen.”

He smirked. “On the first date, Sidekick? What kind of man do you take me for?”

She laughed. Her man. It had taken awhile –too long- but in the end, it turned out just right. After a whole lot of avoiding, they both finally gave in. He was hers and she was and that’s how it was supposed to be. After all, Chloe had always and would always be his number one.


	58. Missing Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, she had doubts.

 

She loved her life; she really did, but sometimes... She had her doubts. It was her first night off in a really long time and most of the League were out celebrating. Bart, Victor and AC were enjoying their night at a bar down the road, probably playing pool and horsing around, maybe even singing karaoke if they drank enough. Clark sped home to Lois for some "quality time." Dinah simply disappeared as soon as the news that it was a free for all night broke out and they hadn't heard from her since earlier that afternoon. Bruce was back to his usual haunt, Gotham. And Oliver... well, he was currently sitting next to her on his far too comfortable and likely incredibly expensive couch. The same one she had spilled coffee on and simply turned the cushion over the week before. His feet were propped up on his coffee table and his arms were bent back behind his head as he closed his eyes and just relaxed. After working with him for nearly five years, this wasn't unusual at all. And that was the problem.

The rest would go out or return to their usual day to day lives while she and him would just... sit and wait. Wait for something more to happen or for their lounge time to end. They were so used to the hunt for all things bad, that the closest thing they really had to down time was just sitting on the couch and breathing. But they were always on alert; waiting for that next alarm to go or some sort of click to go off in their heads, the pieces falling together and a new plan coming into play.

While Oliver was their boss, he was also their friend. He understood the hardships of being a superhero because he lived the life every day. Sure he was the hardworking CEO of Queen Industries as well, but she was pretty sure that was his secret identity and his real one was the green leather suit waiting for him to pull it on. After five years of playing Watchtower, she'd become one of the gang. The men that weren't currently around were her closest friends and she often felt like part of a family when with them. With Oliver, there was something else. Something she couldn't quite explain. Usually that would be cause enough for her to investigate, but some part of her wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was between them.

His relationships in the past had been few and far between and he hadn't actually dated anyone in at least three years. She'd often wondered if it was because of Lois, but when he stood as best man for Clark at their wedding, smiling the whole way through, she knew it wasn't. A couple years ago, she was sure he and Dinah were going to get together. The way the Black Canary looked at him... It was just a given. But he didn't return those looks and one day Dinah stopped directing them towards him. Seemed he was following in Bruce's footsteps and putting off his own happiness for the welfare of the world. She wanted to slap him upside the head for it. Here he was, handsome and charming and completely able to have that relationship. No secrets, no worries, no long unexplainable trips, and he was throwing it away like it didn't matter. What she would give to have that...

With a sigh, she turned her eyes upward, looking through the skylight to the stars above, the moon glowing brightly in the distance. There were no ambulances or fire trucks or cop cars screaming for them to gear up and come out and help. But when those sounds were gone, she was left with nothing but her thoughts. And her mind could be abundantly cruel. She was alone. Utterly alone. She had the League, her friends, her dad and her cousin. But sometimes... Sometimes she looked around and she realized that she'd spent five years wasting away what time she had to really grow and learn and live and love.

"What's wrong, Sidekick?" his low voice asked from her side.

She didn't reply right away, but she could feel the shift of the couch beneath her head as he turned his face toward her, eyes opening to stare curiously.

She licked her lips, eyes staring pointedly at the sky. "Do you ever sometimes feel like you've spent so much time preserving life for others, that you haven't really lived yours?" She let her gaze wander to him, finding his brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head slightly. "I mean, last week I went and saw Pete - he's married, he has two kids, a job with a dental plan, and a retirement fund going. I... I can't remember the last _date_ I was on." She laughed rather pitifully, hoping her fake smile might hide some of the sorrow. "My whole life is making sure other people can live and sometimes, I don't know, I just... I wonder if in the end, I'm missing out on something." She stared at him; he was supposed to have all the answers. He was their fearless leader. Perhaps not physically impenetrable like Clark, but she'd seen the lengths he would go to for them and anybody, stranger or not.

He nodded slowly, brow lifted. "You want marriage and kids, Sidekick? Or you want out of the superhero life?" he wondered, his tone betraying no insight to what his feelings were on either subject.

She turned away for a moment, sighing. "I don't know, Ollie. I just..." She lifted a hand, rubbing at her forehead. "I was sitting there, watching him with these beautiful little girls and interacting with his wife, and all I could think was... Am I ever going to have that?" She lifted a shoulder, turning back to him, her face distraught. She felt so lost.

He reached out, brushing her bangs behind her ear. He smiled soothingly. "Of course you will," he assured. He shook his head, "Any man would be crazy not to want to marry you."

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah I can hardly keep them away," she muttered.

He chuckled. "Okay, so they're not lining up at the door." He winced slightly. "Admittedly, that may sort of be our fault. You're surrounded by four or five guys that won't let anybody within a five mile radius of you." He grinned. "How many pick up lines are you expecting to hear?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "I guess."

His hand fell, rubbing his shoulder, thumb stroking her neck in a way that was oddly comforting. "And hey, if you're really hard up, I'm sure Bart will _happily_ marry you or just conceive a child." He made a face. "But please don't. That's... more than I can handle at this moment."

She rolled her eyes. "I love Bart, but I don't _love_ Bart. And frankly, doing anything more than hugging him is just... _beyond_ our relationship."

He nodded, eyes turning off but fingers still stroking her neck absently. "You know, dating someone in the League would probably be your best choice. Less secrets, more understanding."

She smiled slightly, tilting her head a little more, enjoying his touch. "Pretty slim on choices there, Leatherboy."

His mouth quirked. "Well what are you looking for?"

Her eyes glittered with amusement. "Are you going to play Love Doctor, Oliver?"

"For you? Sure," he agreed, nodding. "Pros and cons list, Sullivan. Let's hear it."

She shook her head. "All right. Uh... I guess he has to be funny but know when to be serious. And he's got to be smart, but not to the point of making me feel dumb. And he's... He has to believe in justice like I do." She lifted a shoulder. "I don't think we could really work if he didn't understand and support this part of me."

With his head leaned back on the couch, he simply nodded, listening to her. His hand was still at the crook of her neck, thumb sliding back and forth beneath her ear. He had incredible hands; a little rough, large and warm against her. The ends of his four fingers were around the back of her neck, threaded in her hair. Looking back, she couldn't remember the last man who'd done anything remotely as intimate as this, besides him. For five years she'd spent the majority of her time at Oliver's side, playing sidekick. But it wasn't like how it had been with Clark. It wasn't him calling her for help whenever he needed it, or just arriving when she happened to get into danger. It was sitting in various hotels or apartments around the world, tracking down the worst people they could. It was having her shoulders rubbed after hours of just sitting and typing, leaning into his strong grip as he supported her and waited patiently for her Intel to come in.

Some nights were serious and others were fun. She'd once sat with him for seven hours straight while he tossed popcorn and grapes from various distances while she caught them in her mouth, all the while waiting for their lead to come in. He missed more often than not, but it took the edge off of everything. And then there other nights where he would work through folders on one side of the room and she'd peruse through her computer, searching for info, on the other. Their only interaction a, "You empty?" on the coffee front or a, "Got anything?" every few hours.

Their business was saving people, but they couldn't let it jade them too much. The things they saw, the people they lost... It could be too much sometimes. But she was working with the most incredible people, and that often made it a little better. Bart could cheer her up with one of his cheesy lines most of the time. And when he couldn't, AC usually coaxed her into a game of PlayStation where he would let her win until she got annoyed and made him play properly, where he then totally crushed her. And if she absolutely refused to play, then Victor faked a computer problem and left her at it for the next five hours, just letting her work her frustration out. And when all else failed and she couldn't help but cry, Oliver would hold her until every single tear was spent and she was left with nothing but an emptiness that would eventually fade into a dull ache and then to the drive to save the next one.

Her boys; they were the greatest men alive. They brought her mint chocolate chip ice cream when she was upset and they made her coffee for her, just the way she liked it, every morning. They called just to say hi and see what she was up to. They treated her like an equal, and not just a girl behind a computer with the information they needed. They made her smile and laugh and they took care of her when she was hurt. They stayed at her side when she "died" for someone else. They showed her there was still good in the world and they preserved it. They were her best friends and her family and everything in between. And yeah, she wanted something a little more, something more intimate, but they made up for the lack of relationships just by being themselves.

"Anything else?" Oliver asked, tugging on her earlobe to draw her attention back to him.

She lifted her gaze, catching his warm brown eyes.

"He has to know my favorite ice cream," she decided.

His brow furrowed. "Mint chocolate chip?"

"Yeah, and he has to love PlayStation and play against me without holding back. And he has to admire my hacking skills while still pushing me to be better. He has to make me laugh and make me smile and hold me when I cry. He has to be every single one of you guys rolled into one!"

Oliver chuckled slightly. "You want a band of heroes all in one guy?"

She nodded, staring at him defiantly. "What? You think I'm being a little high maintenance."

He lifted a brow. "Where do you think you're going to find him, Sidekick?" His smile faded slightly. "There's not a lot of guys like that out there. Not a lot of people who can accept this lifestyle, let alone live it with you."

"I know," she murmured. "You think I'm reaching too far, Ollie?"

"You deserve someone like that," he said, shaking his head. "I'm just sorry this life has taken away your chance for it."

"It hasn't," she disagreed, turning in her seat and frowning. "I thought I was missing out, but I'm not. If anything, I'm gaining more than any other woman could." She lifted her shoulder. "Pete's wife, she's a great person, but she's never going to know what it feels like to skydive out of a plane to an unmapped location to save a village of children. She'll never know what it feels like to wake up in a hotel, step outside and see the most beautiful cities of the world. She's not going to listen to AC and Bart fight over something stupid or Victor antagonizing them." She laughed. "She's never going to feel the satisfaction of saving hundreds, no _thousands,_ of innocent people from the likes of Lex and every bastard like him." Her voice was rising with her pride. "And she's happy! Really, _really_ happy. She's lucky and blesses and she has a wonderful family. But I have four of the greatest people alive around me every single day! And I wouldn't trade that! I really wouldn't! I love Victor and AC and Bart and... And you, Oliver." Her eyes softened. "I love how you give me a reason to wake up every day. ‘Ready to save the world, Sidekick?' Well I am. And I'm going to, every day. With a cup of coffee at my side and a computer ready to go." She grinned. "I'm happy. I might not have the husband or the children or the dental plan, but damn it, I'm a hero!"

He smiled, nodding. "Yes you are."

"I'm not missing out," she told him decidedly. "A date here or there would be nice, but I can handle it. I mean... Seriously? Who do you think is going to be able to handle me?" She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm neurotic and bossy and I disappear randomly. I'm always getting hurt, I die for other people on a regular basis - forget the fact that I come back, that's a lot harder to accept than it seems-"

"Really hard," he interrupted, nodding.

"And I cry - a lot. I mean, with the things I see, I'm surprised I don't cry more. But men don't like emotional women and they're gonna hate that I can't even _tell_ them why I'm crying. Right?" She shook her head. "I think I'm doomed to being single. But..." She lifted a shoulder. "It's for the greater good, right?"

He laughed, before reaching out and pulling her into a hug.

She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. He had a really nice neck; long and lean and tanned. Was it weird that she suddenly wanted to lick the crook? Probably. She closed her eyes and sighed. Wow, he smelled good. Like spice and coffee and _hero_. That probably wasn't a scent, but she wasn't going to think it over much. She'd never tell him, but he really gave the best hugs. Tight and strong and grounding; like he wouldn't let anything take her out of his arms; shielding her from all things bad. She could fall asleep in his arms, easily, and wake up more content than ever.

"You're not going to be single forever, Angel," he assured.

She smiled - he'd been calling her that for years. _You watch over us, don't you_? He'd asked, and she'd awkwardly agreed. _Then you're our Angel._ He was the only one who used it though; the others didn't dare. It was always Chloelicious for Bart, ‘Tower to Victor and CC to AC who had decided she was Cute Chloe when he was very, _very_ drunk one night during a celebration for their breakthrough over the 33.1 warehouses.

"Some guy's going to sweep you off your feet and you'll abandon our band of merry men for married life and various cute blonde children who are far too smart and snarky," he assured, his tone oddly sad and brittle.

She laughed, shaking her head. "I don't plan on abandoning you guys, ever. So you can forget that idea." She squeezed him and snuggled her head against his shoulder. "The blonde children do sound kind of great though?" She pulled back slightly, lifting a shoulder. "I don't know how great a mom I'd be, but-"

"You'd be a great mom," he cut her off, eyes serious. "You already take care of all of us."

She lifted a shoulder. "You guys are easy."

He smirked. "Try telling that to Lois. I guarantee she'll disagree. Whenever she fills in, she tells us that you're insane for sticking with us for so long."

She laughed, leaning against the couch once more, this time a little closer. One of her hands lifted from around him to play with the drawstring of his hoodie. "Lois can be overdramatic." She licked her lips. "You all have very different personalities, but you mesh well together. Bart, AC and Victor, they're like brothers, and you're... You're the dad, I guess." She lifted her eyes, catching his amused grin. "I mean, you have the brotherly tendencies, but more often, you're the leader, so you give off the dad vibe." She lifted a shoulder. "It's not a bad thing." She shook her head, her lips quirking on one side. "You're a great dad," she assured, pressing her palm against his chest. He covered it with his hand and she felt the warmth seep into her skin comfortingly.

They were quiet for a moment, just sort of taking it in. He smiled, the moment fading to join the millions of others just like it. "How drunk do you think the _kids_ will be when they get back?"

She chuckled. "Really, really drunk. I'm hoping Bart doesn't try and run drunk, last time wasn't pretty."

He grinned, obviously remembering how they had to search for the younger man when he'd gotten lost and accidentally hit on an undercover cop posing as a prostitute. He still hadn't lived down that moment. AC tended to rant for hours about tuna when he drank too much while Victor slowed down due to his computer half becoming bogged down and sluggish. "Well, it's always amusing. And they deserve a little fun."

She nodded agreeably. They'd been out of town seven months, non stop working, and the guys had been getting restless. They'd accomplished a lot, but still, they were young men and they too felt like they were missing out at times. But they never said it; they were more than loyal to the group mentality of Justice For All. There were too few people like them.

"Why didn't you go out with them?" she wondered.

He looked at her for a moment. "Why didn't you?"

Her eyes fell, staring at the cleft of his chin. Her hand rose naturally, thumb pressing against the cleft. She did that sometimes; she didn't know why. It was a greeting of sorts when she hadn't seen him in awhile. And when he was upset, she usually did it just to let him know she was there if he needed her. She was closer to him than the rest, mostly because she spent the majority of her time with him. They understood each other and the silences were bearable. Bart couldn't handle the quiet, and Victor usually just went off on his own anyway. AC was often occupied with Bart and so she and Oliver spent their time together. Wayne was in and out of the group, splitting his time between Gotham and the world. Dinah too was in and out; she wasn't much of a team player, but when they needed her, she was there. Clark helped when he could, but he was better solo. Superman was mostly a Metropolis figured and they'd accepted that. They were doing well enough without him.

The question went unanswered. Sometimes, they just needed to separate from the group and when that happened, they ended up together. He yawned and she did the same, laughing slightly at the end. It was rather late and their conversation had made her a little more comfortable. She wasn't so sad anymore. Sometimes, acceptance was all a person had left.

Some part of her was still in Watchtower mode, and reminded her that there were files she could be reading through, but she was relaxed and it was her night off. Besides, if she walked toward her computer, she knew Oliver would just drag her away.

"AC picked up a racing game the other day," he told her.

She smiled. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "Yeah, and Bart picked up some mint chocolate chip ice cream."

Maybe she wasn't _that_ tired.

He stood up, "You set up, I'll grab the ice cream." He winked at her. "You're going down, Sullivan."

"Please, Heroboy!" She rolled her eyes, "I'm the _queen_ of racing games!"

He chuckled, walking off to the kitchen, shaking his head. "We'll see, we'll see."

She stood up from the couch and made her way over to the TV, setting up the PlayStation. As she was putting in the new game, the elevator dinged and she heard the loud ruckus the boys were making as they came home. Arms around each other, they were swaying back and forth and singing at the top of their lungs. " _You gotta be cruel to be kind, in the right measure, it's a very good sign, Cruel to be kind, means that I love you, Baby, you gotta be cruel to be kind..._ "

She cringed, shaking her head. "Please! Stop!"

They laughed, grinning at her drunkenly.

"CC!" AC shouted, stumbling forward. "I met a girl who likes fish but like, doesn't eat them!"

"Really? Wow," she told him, smiling in amusement. "Did you get her number?"

He frowned. "No," he said sadly. "Oh man," he sighed, turning to the guys. "I forgot!"

Bart laughed, shaking his head. "I didn't!" He pulled out a handful of napkins with numbers on them. "She's in here somewhere."

"Dude, you got my fish girl's number?" AC shoved his shoulder.

Bart pushed him back. "For you, not me!"

"Whatever," AC muttered, glaring at him suspiciously.

Rolling his eyes, Bart sped off, knocking into an armchair on the way, and then appeared at Chloe's side. "Hey Clicious." He frowned, brows furrowed. "Chlocious." He shook his head. "Cishious... Closhious..."

"Just say Chloe, Bart," she told him, shaking her head.

"Hey baby," he said instead, grinning at her and leaning close.

Rolling her eyes, she maneuvered around him. "You should get some sleep, all of you."

"What? It's not that late! Come on! It's our night off." He sped forward and took her hand, spinning her around and dancing all over the place. "Let's celebrate."

Her eyes widened as he spun her in too fast circles, accidentally letting go of her hand. She flew off out of his grasp, far too fast for her to stop herself. Thankfully, Oliver caught her just as he was coming out of the kitchen. The bowls of ice cream in his hands didn't fare well, falling to the ground with a crash.

"Aww man, that's my ice cream," Bart whined. "What a waste!"

Chloe, breathing heavy and feeling a little dizzy, leaned back against Oliver's chest. His arms were wrapped around her waist, thumbs stroking the underside of her forearms as her hands clasped over his against her navel.

"I don't feel so good," AC muttered. His face scrunched up and then his eyes widened and a minute later he was running for the bathroom. She winced, shaking her head.

Bart stumbled back and fell into an armchair. He stared blearily up at the two of them in the doorway of the kitchen. "So... Chlo- Chli-" He grinned, chuckling. "I was talkin' to the guys at the bar and they said that you guys didn't come ‘cause you were back here all in love and stuff." He shook his head, lifting his hand and letting it fall against his chest. "I's okay, Chloelicious," he managed. "I always kinda thought you an' Ollie would get together. I don't... I don't _blame_ you. He's like... and you're like... You know?" He shook his head. "You guys get each other and... And I'm okay with that. We're all okay with that. AC's got his fish girl and Victor's got... some girl he's always chatting to on the computer and I... I got this really hot red head's number tonight." He grinned, nodding. "So, y'know, y' don't have to hide it, ‘kay?" He opened his eyes to look at them and then lifted his hand in a thumbs up sign. "Go for it, man!" And with that, he climbed out of the chair and stumbled his way back to his bedroom.

Chloe and Oliver watched with furrowed brows. Slowly, Chloe stepped out of Oliver's arms and licked her lips in confusion. Is that what they thought they'd been doing all these years when they didn't come along? How many of them thought she and Oliver were _together_? It would certainly explain the way Clark and Lois always smiled at each other in that "all knowing" way whenever she and Oliver walked off to talk alone.

Oliver cleared his throat and bent down to pick up the fallen ice cream. "I'll, uh, get you a new bowl."

She nodded absently, still lost in her thoughts. She watched him walk off and bit her lip. What were her feelings for Oliver? He was handsome, sure, and like Bart said, he "got" her. And he was all those things that she'd listed for him pertaining to the kind of guy she wanted. But... No, no, no. Oliver was...He was Ollie. He was Green Arrow; the hero, the leader, her boss. He was... Kind, caring, warm, friendly, funny, charming, and... One of her closest friends. He listened when she talked, and not just about League stuff. He spent hours waiting up with her for information when he could _easily_ be asleep in his bed. He cheered her up and understood her and he never once made her feel inferior. Oliver Queen was...

A bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream with a spoon and a spatter of sprinkles on top was waved beneath her face and she grinned. "Come on, Sidekick. You still have to prove your queendom at this game," he said, his hand falling to her waist, directing her back toward the TV.

 _Perfect_.

As the game loaded, she filled her mouth with chocolate minty goodness and licked her lips. She turned her eyes in his direction. "You ever wonder about the whole 2.5, picket fence life?" she wondered.

He leaned back, tipping his head in thought. "I've wondered a few times."

She nodded, scooping up a spoonful of ice cream and holding it out for him.

With a grin, he wrapped his mouth around it and let out a whoosh of breath at how cold it was, his brows lifting.

"Well, if you're ever gonna get it together, Heroboy, you might want to start dating again. I don't think I've seen a giggly heiress on your arm in _years_ ," she reminded teasingly. She ignored the way her stomach tightened. She'd gotten used to him not dating; to having him all to herself. What did that mean?

He smiled rather sadly. "I've gotten tired of the fake scene. The society pages will thrive without me, I'm sure."

She lifted a brow. "I don't know. You were their favorite blond billionaire to write about." She reached out, wiping away a smudge of mint ice cream from the side of his mouth. "That mug of yours is a blessing to the camera, I guess." He caught her hand as she was pulling it away and brought her thumb back to his lips, licking away the melted ice cream. She felt her heart stutter in her chest and her breathing slow down. Her eyes fell to her hand for only a moment and then rose back to his gaze. He let go of her hand slowly, fingers lingering over her skin.

The loud music of the game was blasting, calling their attention back, but she couldn't seem to draw her eyes away from his.

"You figured it out yet, Sidekick?" he asked, smiling.

"Figured what out?" she wondered, voice soft.

"Why I never go out with the guys." He reached out, pushing her hair behind her ear, his finger tracing down the side of her face. "Those fears you have, that you'll never experience life like all those other people, they're unfounded." He lifted a shoulder. "I'm just waiting for you to open your eyes, Angel. I've been waiting for years."

"Years," she repeated.

"I don't want a giggly heiress." He shook his head, unaffected. "I want a genius computer hacker with a knack for getting into trouble."

"What's your pro and con list, Queen?" she asked, her mouth ticking up with a curious smile.

"She has to be blonde, green eyes, big smile. She's gotta love computers and give her all when going against me in PlayStation. She has to believe in justice like I do and fight for it by my side. She's gotta be curious and tenacious and just a little bit of a daredevil." He grinned, his thumb stroking beneath her ear once more, that sensitive spot that always made her smile. "She has to love the guys for who they are and handle this lifestyle like a pro." He sighed, his eyes falling. "It's a long list though, Angel. Perfect girl is hard to find."

"You know what they say about perfection?" She lifted a brow. "It's overrated."

He chuckled. "I've spent most of my life both looking for and avoiding this, you know? And you've been sitting right beside me the whole time."

"Well, we're all allowed to be a little dense every once in awhile," she assured, patting his shoulder.

"Says the woman who only _just_ realized her feelings," he shot back, lifting a brow.

"Yeah, you think you know what I'm feeling, Queen?" She smiled, eyes thinning. "What am I thinking about right now?"

He leaned in close to her, their noses brushing. "You're thinking about how much you want me to kiss you, but you're a little worried that your ice cream is going to melt because you're not going to be able to _stop_ once we get started."

 _Oh he was good_.

She shook her head. "Close but no cigar." She tipped her head slightly. "I was thinking about how much _I_ want to kiss you, but I'm a little worried my ice cream might melt because _you_ aren't going to be able to stop!"

He grinned, his hand falling to cup her face. "I'm still going to win in the end, Sidekick."

She wasn't sure if he meant the game or her, and she really didn't care. "I don't think there's a loser in this one," she whispered before pressing her lips to his. Her arm wrapped around his neck, fingers delving into his hair. Yeah, her doubts were _really_ unfounded. She loved her life; she really did. And she loved the man kissing her just as much. They had an _interesting_ future ahead of them. It was everybody else that should rethink their lives; she wasn't missing out on anything.

 **Author's Note** : _My sister is really sick and so I only have a few minutes, otherwise I'd be writing **Amorous**. Instead, you have the oneshot I finished up last night but didn't have the time to edit. Hope you liked this! Reviews are sustenance, readers! Luv yas - Fina!_   


	59. Operation: Rescue Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never send a man to do a woman's job.

As Chloe Sullivan tugged on her red leather "save the world" outfit, she muttered to herself about how bad her luck was. The _one_ night in three months that she was actually allowed off, she ended up being called away on an emergency. Oliver had assured her that the he and the guys would be able to handle one mission without her. So she'd promised Lois, up and down, cross her heart, hope to die, stick a needle in her eye, and before she could even enjoy their appetizers, her JL emergency handheld was buzzing at her side. She dropped the delicious looking potato skin, gave Lois the "sorry, but it has to be done" face and slipped out of the restaurant feeling only mildly disappointed.

Three months and it was the first time she'd really spent any time alone with her favorite cousin, but she had to admit some part of her was already missing the familiarity and comfort of her boys. She'd been on the road - or more precisely, in the air - traveling around the world with the League playing Watchtower. She'd been stealthily doing so for nearly five years and she was getting damn good at it. She had her own custom made red leather suit, of which she was doing the zipper of currently, her own codename, and she'd taken the time to learn all the moves needed in her position. Sure, she was usually behind the desk, watching the monitors and verbally getting them out of danger, but there was never any reason to be under prepared. She studied with Oliver when they had time off and she found she rather liked the art of Zen and finding her inner calm to get her through everything. Of course, some part of her was still very used to the hustle and bustle of places like The Daily Planet (even though she hadn't worked there for half a decade), Lois' natural charm was never quiet, and not to mention living with four men 24/7, but she liked to just sit and breathe in, breathe out, finding her center. Of course, at the moment, her center was off somewhere, laughing at her.

For now, she was downloading the schematics of the building they'd infiltrated and gearing up. She knew where they were headed and didn't want to be surprised. She had four heroes to save and she was going to do it without injury or problem. When she heard the beep of her handheld tell her that she had all the information she needed, she took a deep breath and stuck it into the zip up pocket of her suit. She tugged her black wig on and carefully adjusted it so it wouldn't slip off. With a final glance at the mirror to see that everything was in order, she crossed the apartment to the secret elevator that brought her downstairs to the red and black bike waiting below. She'd be there in a half hour tops. She hid her worry behind her veil of annoyance and climbed onto her bike, pulling her helmet on. It was unusual not hearing their playful voices bantering in her ear, but she shook of the feeling and revved the engine. With a small sigh, she collected herself and sped out of the hidden garage, onto the streets of Metropolis.

Thirty five minutes later, she had her bike hidden in cluster of trees and was crouching in the darkness to survey the building ahead of her. It was surrounded by a barbed wire fence and armed guards walking the top. Seemed that since the boys were taken, they'd changed up the guards for fresh ones. Seeing as it was far too dangerous to go straight for the fence, the area too open, she instead took out the extra trigger she had for the strapped gas implants the boys would've put in at each corner. Protocol, after all. They'd had two of everything made up for back up measurements. Pressing down on the button in the center, she watched as green smoke billowed up and around the perimeter and soon they were dropping like flies and before they could even alert the others. With a smirk, she stood up from the shaded grass and ran through the field, jumping at the fence and crawling up to the top. She maneuvered over the barbed wire stealthily and dropped to the ground, knees bending and hand falling to keep herself upright.

Her eyes scanned the area, walking along the side of the fence until she was shadowed once more. There was a passed out guard on the ground, his gun lying out of his reach. Patting his chest, she searched for his access card and found it on a tie around his neck, hidden beneath his shirt. Tugging it off of him, she hurried toward the entrance. Noticing the key pad at the side, she took out the special spray that would reveal which buttons were hit most often. Sliding the card through, she started punching in the buttons and within the third try, she noticed the button turn from red to green, allowing her in. Unfortunately, there was a guard right in front of her. He turned, obviously expecting another of his kind, but was surprised to see her instead. He lifted his gun, but she was too quick and managed to knock it away from him with one quick swing of her arm. Putting all of her weight behind her elbow, she bashed it against the side of his head and watched him go down.

Seeing that there were no other guards in the vicinity, Chloe lifted her handheld with the schematics and turned down the left hall until she was beneath a vent. With a sigh, she began grumbling to herself about how her night had turned out. She jumped up, cursing her height, and popped the board in the roof, looping her hands onto the side and pulling herself up. She silently thanked Oliver for all of his early morning work outs - which, if she were to admit - usually started out a little less serious than they should have. As she crawled through the dusty vent, her mind spun the odd tale that brought her to this point. Nearly five years ago, she'd been working in the basement of the Daily Planet, up until the moment Lex Luthor took over and decided she could best serve the world outside of his paper. And so she took up the reigns of Watchtower permanently and hadn't regretted the moment since. It had her out of Metropolis a lot and away from her family and friends a little too often for her comfort. But eventually, she grew into it.

Three years prior, her ties to the League became a little deeper than she ever expected. While Bart had always been chasing after her, it was Oliver who finally caught her. They'd had a hard mission, one that brought them all down. She nearly lost half of them due to old schematics and she had to watch as AC was nearly killed and Bart was knocked unconscious. She got them out, but it was a moment she wished never to repeat. And when Oliver came home, she'd been sure he was going to tear her head off for her mistake. Instead, he'd wrapped his arms around her and told her it wasn't her fault. And she'd cried, so sorry that she'd nearly caused the demise of two of her closest friends. He held her as she knelt on the floor, ready to give up and eventually she realized that it was all a planted rouse that Lex set up. Incensed, she'd been ready to go after the bald billionaire and show him just how protective she could be of her boys. And laughing, Oliver had kissed her until her rage had slipped away entirely and all she could think about was how soft his lips were.

Lois had been surprisingly okay with it. Chloe later learned it was because she'd been shacking up with a certain alien farm boy and didn't know how to tell her favorite cousin. Clark had been hesitant about them, but he'd accepted it eventually. He just wasn't used to being the second most important male in her life. With Lois taking all of his attention though, Chloe was practically off the hook. The rest of the League wasn't surprised, although Bart was a little disappointed. He'd moved on to Dinah soon after though and was currently chasing after the Black Canary, who was yet another blonde that wasn't interested. Chloe had noticed that she was softening to him though.

So now here she was, playing Watchtower to a bunch of men who apparently couldn't handle one night on their own.

Army crawling through the vent made her thankful she'd stretched that morning. The leather was a little too warm for her taste and she had a wedgie, but Oliver would just give her some cheesy line about it all being in the name of justice. She smiled slightly in the emptiness around her. Army crawling through the vent made her thankful she'd stretched that morning. The leather was a little too warm for her taste and she had a wedgie, but Oliver would just give her some cheesy line about it all being in the name of justice. She smiled slightly in the emptiness around her. She'd been in love with the green leathered hero for three years and though the job never really got easier, being with him and knowing what they were doing for the world, made it all worth it. He got hurt, she got hurt, the world was cynical and dark. But she went to bed knowing it was a little better, safe in the arms of a man who would lay down his life for her or anybody who needed it. And yeah, she had been looking forward to going out and hanging out with Lois for a change, but the second the alarm went off, all she could think about was making sure they were okay. She was always in Watchtower mode, the mother hen to the group. When they weren't in her direct line of sight, she worried. They were her friends, her family, her heroes. And now they were being messed with and that just wouldn't do.

Lifting a hand, she pushed the button on the side of her sunglasses giving her night vision. She counted the turn off vents until she found the right one and pulled herself up to the grill that showed her the hall below. She watched as the guards walked by beneath her, unaware of her existence. She slid her fingers through the slits and pulled the grill up carefully, moving it to the side. Ducking her head down to see the hall, she watched as a guard turned down the hall. Her gaze fell downward and then back to where the other guard had passed, only to find him walking back toward her, whistling a tune under his breath and doing a weird little jig from side to side. Where did they find these guys? She shook her head, smirking.

When he was close enough, she slid forward and down through the vent hole. With her legs parted, her knees held her in place, hanging from the vent. She wrapped an arm around the guard's neck and tightened it. He flailed, lifting a couple inches from the ground. Instead of doing something useful, like pulling her down, he scratched at her leather covered arms until he finally ran out of breath. She waited just long enough for him to fall unconscious and then dropped him to the floor. The thump made the other guard come running and she quickly fled back into the vent, repeating the process to the next guard. And then, with a flourish, she hopped down and dusted her hands off. She plucked a walkie-talkie from one of their suits and clipped it to her belt to keep herself informed of the goings on around her. Pulling out her handheld directions, she glanced at the large black print on the wall to find where she was. One level below them, she figured. With a sigh, she started walking.

She listened carefully for any signs of guards coming and maneuvered up to the corner when she heard talking down the hall. She listened to the footsteps and figured there was only one, the other going in the opposite direction. She waited until they were almost around the corner and then elbowed the guard in the face, knocking him back a few steps. She came around the corner and quickly kicked him in the gut, before he could get his bearings back. He fell to his knees, hoarsely calling out some kind of alert. With a hard delivering of her fist to his face, he was knocked out cold. She could hear the footsteps of the other guard coming back though and hopped over the prone man to get to the next one. He came running; not bothering to take in what the situation was. She waited until he was close enough and then bent low and kicked her leg out, tripping him and only coming back up when he fell flat on his face. He was up and ready to fight a second later, however, and she grabbed him by his hair before directing her knee up and catching him in the jaw. She pushed him back into the wall as hard as she could and pulled out the dart gun she had, pointing it at his shoulder and pulling the trigger. Within seconds he was out and laying next to his buddy.

Shaking her head, she started jogging down the hall, turning left at the next hall and searching for the elevator. It seemed unusual to stand and wait for it to arrive. She stood, hand on her hip, eyes turned down toward her watch, impatiently. Unfortunately, as it opened, she was greeted with five guards. She took a deep breath and prepared. She bent her knees, lifted her dart gun and took out one, maybe two. Then they were charging and she was swinging her fists. She stomped her heavy boot down on a random foot and slammed her elbow into one of their guts. She managed to block a gun from raising and instead used it to bash the holder in the head, knocking him back and out of her way. They all stepped back and began circling her and she crouched, grinning.

"You're outta your league, lady."

She lifted a brow. "I'm in my element."

As they came at her, she flipped backwards, the end of her foot catching one of them in the face. She landed easily on her heels once more and thanked Oliver for his many sessions in agility. With a bleeding nose, the startled guard in the center looked at his three companions and growled, "Get her!"

She jumped upward, grabbed a hold of the pipes running above her and used it to anchor herself. And just as two guards came at her, she kicked her feet out, catching them both in their throats and sent them back in coughing fits. She dropped back down to the ground and sighed. "This has been fun, but I'm on a tight schedule," she said, lifting a shoulder. She then backed into the now open and forgotten elevator. She tossed a disk out and grinned as green smoke began billowing out of it. She pressed the third floor button and heard their bodies fall to the floor unconscious, just as the elevator began to rise.

When the doors reopened, she sighed. Three more and they had already managed to hit the alarm. She checked her watch and the handheld schematics. They weren't far. She stepped out, eyes following them as they spread out, readying for her attack. "What? No directions for a lost traveler?" Her mouth quirked in a smile. "I'm just looking for a few friends. You know them?" She looked at the three men, all staying silent, all waiting for her to strike. "Guess we're doing this the hard way."

OoOoO

Oliver scowled, shaking his head. His body from the neck down was strapped in restraints he dearly wished weren't there if only so he didn't have to listen to AC and Bart argue to his left. He couldn't believe they'd been caught. It had been a minor mistake; but one just the same. If Chloe had been watching like usual, it never would've happened. But she deserved a night off and so she was having dinner with Lois. He only hoped she got the emergency signal and that she wasn't too annoyed she had to cancel her plans to get them out. He wasn't nearly as worried as he could be. He knew the lengths his girlfriend would go to save them. Besides, the mission they were on wasn't their usual. The zany doctor that had captured them wasn't their run-of-the-mill psychotic villain.

"Well if you hadn't loaded up on fast food, maybe you would've been a little faster," AC complained.

"Hey! A little McDonalds never hurt _anybody_!" Bart shouted back.

"Have you never seen _Supersize Me_?"

"Sounds like a cheap porno." Bart scoffed. "Anyway, it wasn't my fault! Cyborg said the alarms were off!"

"They _were_!" Victor said, huffing. "Until _somebody_ hit the keypad with one of his _arrows_!'

Oliver rolled his eyes. "The guy moved unexpectedly," he muttered.

"You know, none of this would've happened if Watchtower was working."

"Can't fight you on that one," AC agreed, nodding.

"What restaurant did she go to again?" Bart wondered.

"Is your stomach the _only_ thing you think about?"

"No!" He snorted. "Sometimes I think about food _and_ girls." He laughed.

Oliver grinned. Well at least their team spirit was still up.

The door clanged open and his smile melted away.

"And how are my superheroes faring?" The doctor they'd been tailing for the last few weeks walked into view and Oliver frowned. She looked a little less put together than her pictures had shown. Her hair was in disarray, the dark root growing in heavily. It hung in stringy knots around her shoulders, her large goggles pushed up on top of her head. She smiled, showing off braces that had obviously been put in after having her jaw broken. He'd read the rap sheet and she'd been forced out of regular hospital work because of her "unusual" techniques, which included using unapproved meds on patients that didn't need them, unscheduled and unsupervised surgeries that ended in death more often than not, and also having been cited too many times for indecent exposure to various patients.

Her hand roamed up his leg and he inwardly cringed, too stubborn to show any outward reaction. "We're feeling a little boxed in. Why don't you loosen the restraints a bit?" he suggested calmly.

"I'm parched," AC told her with a sigh.

"I could go for some dinner," Bart chimed in.

"You got any TV? Maybe an Xbox around here?" Victor wondered.

She wasn't amused; shaking her head, she glared. "Nobody ever takes me seriously."

"I can't imagine _why_ ," Bart muttered.

Her fingertip roaming over his body, the doctor walked around Oliver and over to Bart at his side. She bent down on her elbow and stared down at him, her eyes wide and curious. "When I was a little girl, I used to dissect the frogs from the pond behind my house. I wanted to know how they worked," she told him. She reached out, running her forefinger down the center of his chest. "Do you think if I opened you up, your secrets will come spilling out?"

"The only thing coming out of him is a whole lot of Mexican food, lady," AC called out, drawing her attention away from Bart.

She lifted her head, her mouth quirking with a smile. "Ah, my little fish," she murmured. She patted Bart's stomach before walking over to AC and bending low so they were nearly nose to nose. "You know, Ariel was always my favorite. I never understood why she wanted Eric though, when she had perfection in the sea. Do you have a mermaid somewhere, fishy?" she wondered, finger roaming across his lips. "Do you think she'll come for you when I cut you into sushi?" She licked her lips, her hands clasping either side of his face. "It's too bad, really. You really are quite..." She bit her lip. "Maybe we'll have a little fun, huh?"

He sneered. "Sorry, not really a fan of the crazy."

She laughed, loud and piercing. There was sudden alarm however, that distracted her and her expression fell away to that of anger.

Oliver grinned. The cavalry was there.

The doctor walked over to the comm. and pressed down on the button. "What's going on out there?"

"What's the matter, doc?" Victor called out. "Playtime over?"

"We've got- -oblem- -ere's a- -nother one- -red leather-" The comm. crackled, his words muddled with noise.

The doctor stomped her foot and growled with irritation. "Get rid of them!" she shouted back. She turned around suddenly, eyes thinning as she stared at the four heroes shackled down. "Where were we?"

"You were molesting us and we were all silently screaming for help," Bart told her, snickering. "This one's not just crazy, she's buckets of creepy too."

"I never did like that word," she pouted. "Molest; it's so..."

"Honest?"

She tisked. "I was only having a little fun." She walked closer, hand sliding up AC's leg, far too close for his comfort. He squirmed in his restraints and she giggled. She bypassed the juncture of his thighs and skid her fingers over his stomach. Reaching behind him, she picked up a scalpel from a silver tray and AC gulped, eyes widening. She grinned at him before slicing a small hole into his suit and sliding it up with ease, parting the thin fabric and revealing his upper body to the cold, clinical surroundings. Her eyes flashed with glee. "You ever play doctor when you were a kid?" She smirked. "It's a lot more painful than that." She then flicked the scalpel beneath the bottom half of his suit and drew it down until he was completely stripped of his suit. For the first time in his life, he was happy he didn't go commando beneath.

She stepped back and turned to Bart, following in the same steps as she stripped him of his shirt and jeans, trailing the incredibly sharp edge of her scalpel over his skin. "I've never had four patients at once," she murmured, her voice becoming rather childish.

"Cheetah print?" Victor asked with a laugh, trying to take the edge off.

"Hey," Bart replied, "Cheetahs are seriously fast!"

The doctor walked around AC and Bart to Victor, obviously wanting to wound their pride and take away what dignity they had left. "Half computer, right?" She lifted her eyebrows and grinned. "This _will_ be interesting." She parted his purple and silver suit and raked her fingers over his muscled chest. "I might just save you for last."

She winked before walking around them and back to Oliver, her heels clicking beneath her. "And my leader, of course." She walked her fingers up from his navel to the top of his zipper. "Luthor wanted to buy your little band of heroes off of me for millions, you know," she told him, lifting her shoulders. "But then I'd miss out on all my fun." She stuck her bottom lip out and shook her head. She reached a hand out toward his sunglasses and licked her lips. "I bet just telling him your identity would be enough." She giggled. "I thought the mystery would add to my enjoyment and it does, but... My research _does_ need funding."

Oliver glared at her. He didn't know what he would do if she knew. Even if they did get out, there was no way to guarantee her silence. Just as her finger slid under the arm of his glasses, he heard the door slam against the wall behind her.

"Hands off, dye job, that one's mine," Chloe's voice echoed through the room and he stifled a laugh.

Armed with a scalpel, the doctor whirled around toward her. "You can't have them. I got ‘em fair and square!" she yelled.

"Hey I get it, they're like Lays. You can't have just one." She clicked her tongue. "Unfortunately for you, these four are mine. Either hand them over or I'll take them from you. And trust me, if I have to take them, you're not waking away unscathed."

The doctor giggled maniacally. "Come and get ‘em!"

Chloe shook her head. "You asked for it."

The doctor lunged first, scalpel out and swinging wildly. Chloe grabbed her wrist and twisted it sideways, forcing her attacker to drop the scalpel. Still, she wasn't going down without a fight. She kicked and screamed and bashed her head into Chloe's, who shook off the pain and then grabbed the woman by her shoulders, throwing her back against the wall. Her hands came up, hooking around Chloe's neck and tightening. Chloe's knee lifted, connecting with the doctor's stomach and forcing her to stumble back, groaning in pain.

"Yes! Get her!" Bart cheered.

"Aim for the face!" AC called out.

Instead of running at her again, the bleeding doctor backed away and grabbed a few beakers from her desk, throwing them at Chloe in defense. She circled the tied down men, grabbing anything and everything she could and whirling it at her. As she bumped into the silver tray with all of her medical supplies, she picked up the sharp utensils and started throwing them like knives. Chloe dodged most of them, catching one in her shoulder and another sliced her cheek.

"Seriously lady, how far do you think you're going to get?" Chloe asked, annoyed.

The doctor glared before stepping back and pressing a large red button against the wall. An alarm blared around them and she smirked. "You've got your back up and I've got mine."

"Yeah? I took most of yours out, so we'll see about that," she replied. She turned back toward the door as a few guards stepped inside, armed and ready. Chloe lifted her curled fists and grounded herself.

"Ah look, girlie wants to play!" one of the men said, shoving the guard at his side.

AC shook his head. "Mocking her only makes her angry."

"Come on then, midget," the guard sneered.

"Son, you're about to get your ass handed to you!" Bart exclaimed, laughing.

"Did he just make fun of my height?" Chloe asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Is now the time, Sidekick?" Oliver asked, shaking his head.

"Oh, it is _so_ the time." She stepped forward, glaring. "I missed a dinner date for this! I was supposed to go see a movie and hang out with a _girl_ for a change. I was supposed to get a manicure and a pedicure and if I was lucky, eat ice cream until my stomach hurt. So this is _really_ the time, okay?" Close enough, Chloe reached out and grabbed the collar of the guard, pulling him forward. " _Never_ put down the height." With that, she head-butted him and pushed him so hard, he knocked into the guard behind him, sending them both to the floor.

Stunned the third guard, moved around her and toward the strapped down League members. He pushed the doctor out of the way and took a needle from the tray, holding it against AC's neck. "Step back, drop any weapons and show me your hands!" he yelled.

She frowned, kicking her foot out and stepping down hard on one of the guard's chests until he was squirming on the floor, trying to push her leg off. She leaned down and took his gun from him, lifting it quickly and aiming it at the guard beside AC. "Which one of us do you think is going to win in this equation?" She shook her head. "You have to pierce the skin and push down on the plunger. I, on the other hand, just have to pull this nifty trigger." She kicked her foot forward and knocked the guard on the floor out and then stepped forward. "Put the needle down and get on the floor, face down, arms behind your back."

The guard glanced at the doctor uncertainly before finally falling to his knees and getting down on the floor. Chloe walked forward and took the needle, turning to the doctor, she asked, "What's in it?"

"A mild sedative," she replied, wiping away a strip of blood from her mouth.

With a nod, Chloe leaned down and stuck it in the guard. He struggled for only a moment before passing out. She stood back up and turned to the doctor. "You know, I never went to medical school, but I'm pretty sure this isn't a regular check up."

The doctor backed her way around the four steel beds, hands lifted in a sign of surrender. "I just wanted to know what made them tick. Haven't you ever wondered?" Her eyes were wide with crazed fascination.

"I don't want to hear about your insane fantasies," Chloe told her, shaking her head. "You've been shut down and I'm sure they'll have a cozy straightjacket waiting for you." She put the gun down on the counter and walked toward the cringing doctor who was looking around, searching for a way out. "This all could've been a lot easier." She grabbed the woman by the front of her white coat. "Never mess with my boys," she whispered warningly, her tone sharp. With that, she plunged a green dart into her shoulder and let her fall to the floor. Now free and in the clear, Chloe turned around to face the four strapped down men.

She tisked, shaking her head. "I leave you four alone for _one_ day and look what happens." Her hands found her hips. "You get caught, practically molested and-Impulse, are those cheetah print?" She lifted a brow before shaking her head, getting back on track. "From now on, if I'm not here, you guys have to call someone in to watch over you."

"Can we talk about this when we're not restrained?" Oliver asked.

"I dunno." She lifted a shoulder, smiling. "You're all more receptive when you're locked in one place and the PlayStation is out of reach." She walked across to Oliver.

"Oh come on, Watchtower. _One time_ we ignore you for a video game and you just happened to interrupt a very important game."

"You were playing Zelda, AC!"

"Like I said; a _very important game_."

"Oh my-" She lifted a hand to her head. "This is the last time I save your sorry asses!"

"Hey, I didn't ignore you for the game. I was paying you _complete_ attention!" Oliver reminded.

Chloe worked to undo the straps holding down his arms and sighed. "Yes, I remember, Arrow. I believe your favorite part about my speech was when you got your hand under my shirt and convinced me we could have a private conversation in our bedroom. As I recall," she tried not to smile, "very little talking was done."

"I remember you were very vocal," he said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, we heard that, definitely wasn't quiet in there," Bart agreed.

"Bit of a screamer, huh Watchtower?" AC teased.

She rolled her eyes, making her way over to release Bart. "You're still tied up, Aquaman. Might wanna compliment me a little more or I could just leave you here." She nodded her head toward the unconscious doctor. "You wouldn't be hard up for company."

He flushed uncomfortably. "Have I mentioned how great it is to see you?" he asked with a grin.

She rolled her eyes, smiling slightly. "Next time, the only one I'm saving is Cyborg."

"What? You wound me!" Bart cried dramatically. "What's so great about microchip over there?"

"He knows when to keep quiet," she informed them. She lifted a warning finger toward Oliver. "Any more jokes about how vocal I am in bed and you're not going to hear anything in there for a looong time."

His mouth snapped shut, a small smile appearing. "I love you?"

She snorted. "You think you're getting away that easy? I was supposed to be at a movie tonight! My first night off in three months and I get stuck doing this!"

Rubbing his wrists, Bart grinned at her. "C'mon. You know you love it."

She sighed, shaking her head. "It was an action movie anyway." She frowned. "And I would've spent most of it thinking of a better way to get in or out."

Oliver stood up, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leaning down to kiss her temple. "That's why you fit in here, ‘Tower." He rubbed a hand down her back soothingly.

"Yeah, where would be without _you_?" Bart asked, brows lifted.

AC glanced down at the unconscious doctor and shuddered. "Dude, forget Oliver, _I_ love you! This has officially been one of the weirdest nights of my life! And look what I do for a living! That _has_ to say something."

Chloe smiled. "Don't worry. We'll get you home, I'll order in some dinner and you can lick your wounds while kicking some ass on the PS."

AC nodded. "Better than chicken soup."

"Are we ready to get out of here?" Victor asked hopefully.

"Perimeter's safe. We've got nobody on this side of the building and the alarm's been shut down." She lifted her arm and checked her watch. "We have about fourteen minutes to get out of here before shift change and people start noticing the guards are down on this side." She turned to Bart, "If you leave now and call in the men in blue, they'll be here to arrest the good doctor here before they can get out."

He saluted her with a grin and then took off.

"How long do you think it'll take before he realizes he's running around in only his boxers?" Victor asked, lifting a brow.

"First girl he hits on will be the tip off," Chloe assured, stepping over the prone doctor and out the door. "That remind me, I like the new threads, guys, really classy." They grumbled, laughing sarcastically at her jab.

They walked down to the elevator and climbed on, leaning back against the cold steel walls as it lowered to the main floor.

Oliver wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Sorry we ruined your night off."

She shrugged, leaning her head back on his shoulder. "It wasn't so bad." She sighed. "I might've been slightly bored." She glared at him as he grinned. "I'm going out with her tomorrow night though! I promised her a girl's night and we're having one."

"Ah but tomorrow's the big game! You promised you were gonna make your nachos," AC whined.

"You sound like Bart," she replied with a chuckle.

The doors to the elevator opened and they carefully stepped out, eyes alert for guards.

"How'd you get in?" Oliver queried.

She motioned to the vent above and cocked a brow at them questioningly. "I don't know if it can handle your weight though."

"Are you calling us fat?" AC asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

She snorted. "We'll take the long way." She walked forward, smiling. "Maybe we'll get lucky and there will be a few female guards. We'll just pass you off as male strippers." She looked over her shoulder, "You think it'll work?"

"With these abs?" Oliver replied, smirking as he nodded.

"I did a strip show once," Victor piped up.

They looked over to him, surprised.

He frowned, rolling his eyes. "I was undercover!"

"Oh! I remember that!" His brow furrowed. "That was at a gay bar, wasn't it?"

"Shut up, Fish-face!"

Chloe clutched her sides as she laughed loudly, shaking her head in amusement. She tipped her head back as Oliver's arms wrapped around her waist. He smiled down at her, resting his chin against the top of her head. She ignored that pang in her heart that reminded her she'd almost lost him. That there was a moment where she really might not have seen him smile again. She shook it off.

He kissed her hair. "Good work tonight, Watchtower."

She smiled. "Yeah well... Never send a man to do a woman's job." She winked before breaking away from his arms and grabbed the tail end of the gun showing around the upcoming corner. She pulled it out and then pushed it back in, forcing the gun into the stomach of the hidden guard. He held to the ground with a groan and she tossed the gun away. She walked off with a sway to her hips. She felt more alive than she had all night. She was _born_ for this.


	60. Don't Let Me Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear is a catalyst.

  **" _It is a fearful thing to love what death can touch_."**

* * *

 

_Everything was falling apart. They were failing; their mission had gone all wrong. He didn't know where his team was, he could only hear her voice, screaming for him, pleading for him. He turned a corner and found her, kneeling on the ground, surrounded by rubble. Blood poured from a hole in her stomach, seeping through the cracks of her fingers and staining her beautiful skin. He stared, breathing heavy, eyes wide, his heart beating so fast it felt as if it would explode out of his chest at any second. "I'm sorry," he told her, tears escaping down his cheeks._

_"It won't heal," she told him, shaking her head. Her fingers tightened against her shirt and she sobbed brokenly. "I can't make it stop bleeding."_

_He stepped closer, his knees wobbly beneath him, threatening to let him fall at any second. "Don't leave me. Please. Please, don't leave me."_

_"I can't... I can't heal it, Ollie," she told him, falling back to sit on the ground, her hand falling to one side to hold her up, dust mixing with her blood covered hands. "It hurts. It hurts so much..." She closed her eyes, her head falling forward._

_"I should've been here," he told her, his hands fisting at his sides. "I-I- It's my fault. I- I got you into this. I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have brought you into this life."_

_She was right there, so close, bleeding to death right before him. He wanted to hold her, to heal her wounds for her, to take them onto himself, but he couldn't. He took another step and his legs finally gave out. He fell to his knees a few feet away from her. He reached out, his fingers only managing to touch the very end of her hair; so soft. She lifted her eyes, such a sad shade of green. Her hand rose and touched his, her warm blood making his stomach twist and a pained cry escape him. He suddenly crawled forward, wrapping his arms around her and dragging her into his lap, hugging her tightly. She felt so weightless in his arms, her head falling back against his arm, her breathing heavy and her skin paling by the second._

_"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry baby," he whispered, his tears escaping. He sniffled, running his hand over her face, his fingers shaking. "Look at me, okay? Just look at me, keep your eyes open."_

_She stared up at him, eyes half lidded. "Don't let me go."_

_"I won't," he promised in a choked whisper._

_"Don't let me go," she repeated, shaking her head from side to side. "Please, please, just hold me."_

_"I will," he told her, lifting her up closer and pressing his lips against her forehead._

_The ground shook beneath him and he could hear the building falling apart. The ceiling fell out in the hall down the way and he knew it was all going to collapse around them. Her breathing was slowing; she was so close to dying. He clenched his teeth, shaking his head. "Stay awake," he told her, shaking her a little. "Look at me. Come on, Sidekick. Don't leave me now."_

_She reached up; her hand touching his cheek, leaving a streak of blood as it slowly fell away. "It's not... your... fault," she croaked out, spitting up blood. Her eyes widened and her chin jerked as she tried to suck in air but couldn't. And then she was limp in his arms._

_"Yes it is." He buried his face against her. "Yes, it is." The building collapsed around him._

Oliver woke up in a start, sweat beading against his skin. He gasped for air, eyes wide as he stared out into the dark room. He turned his head as she stirred next to him and he lifted a hand to his face in relief. Just a dream; another nightmare. For the last couple weeks, he couldn't escape the cruelty of his mind. She just kept dying, over and over, right in front of him, and there was nothing he could do. He climbed out of bed, careful so not to wake her. He walked to the window and stared out at Metropolis city below, bright and corrupted, just like usual. He lifted his arms and rested them against the window and pressed his forehead against his forearms, staring down with a frown.

His job didn't leave much to the imagination. He saw people die, killed people when worse came to worse, and he knew what lengths they would go to. He'd been lucky so far; he hadn't lost any of his League. They'd been hurt and near death, but they always made it through. He'd seen her die for them, always bringing them back and falling victim to death herself, longer each time. For over two years she'd been the most important person in his life. Their lifestyle brought them together in a way he'd never expected and a few weeks ago, he would never have changed it. But now... Now he didn't know what he was doing or thinking. He was pushing her away because he didn't want to lose her. It didn't make sense and yet it did. If she wasn't with him, wasn't living this life, she'd be okay.

Every day, every nightmare that passed, he became more distant with her. He couldn't hold her anymore, kissing her was always brief, because he knew if he let himself linger, he'd let it all out and he'd break down and never let her go. It became worse with each nightmare. Seeing her die, holding her as she drifted away from him, only to wake up and find her okay again. She didn't know what was wrong, she asked and he avoided. She was still just as affectionate with him, trying to draw him back, but he'd clear his throat and step away from her. The League guys didn't know what to do or say. Victor had asked what was up, straightforward, and he'd simply told him to leave it alone. AC frowned at him whenever he noticed the way he was pushing her away. The majority of them had been pro their relationship and didn't understand why he was hurting her. Clark was being curt with him; he was the only one who hadn't agreed with him and Chloe getting together in the first place and now it seemed he thought he was right. Bart told him he was being a jerk and that if he didn't get his shit together _Chloelicious_ was going to find someone who deserved her. He knew that, he just wasn't sure if he was against it.

"Hey," her voice called out from the bed, soft and sleepy.

He turned his head slightly, eyes falling toward her.

"It's late, what are you doing up?" she wondered, rolling onto her back.

"Couldn't sleep," he replied, jaw clenching.

"Come back to bed," she told him, rubbing her eyes.

He shook his head. "Go back to sleep. I'll be fine."

She sighed but instead of turning over like she usually did, she sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed, crawling out.

He frowned, closing his eyes. He didn't want to have this conversation; he didn't want to avoid the questions again. Her arms wrapped around him and he told himself he should walk away, but he didn't. She felt warm against his back and her hands spread against his bare stomach, thumb stroking over the exact spot a deep scar sat.

"How long is this going to keep up?" she wondered, voice quiet.

"I don't know," he murmured honestly.

He could feel her cheek against his shoulder blade, her hair brushing his skin. "I can't keep doing this."

His teeth clenched and he felt his heart tighten. He covered her hand over his stomach with his own, fingers threading with hers. His pulse raced with the same fear he felt every night he was sleeping. He was losing her, but this was no dream.

"I want to stay, I want to be here for you, but I don't know what's wrong and you won't tell me." She sighed, swallowing tightly. "And it's me." She laughed, low and bitter. "Whatever the problem is, it has to do with me. So..." He felt her hands loosening and tightened his grip on her.

He opened his eyes, staring down at the city once more. "You keep dying."

She lifted her head and he knew her brows were furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"When I fall asleep, I keep seeing you die." He took a deep breath, filling his burning lungs. "And it could happen. One day... We're not going to be lucky anymore and... And I might find you, dying or already dead and I can't... I _can't_." He shook his head, his mouth quivering with emotion. He turned around slowly, eyes turned away from her, afraid of seeing what might be there. _Coward_. He lifted his hands, cupping her face and brought his gaze down to hers. "I love you, more than anything, but I can't be the reason you die." He blinked away his tears. "I want to say the same about the guys. I want to say that I couldn't live if I lost them, but I _would_. It would hurt, god it would hurt so much. But I would get through it, eventually. But if I lost you... If I had to go through those nightmares in real life, I couldn't..." His voice gave out.

"So what? You're just... You're letting me go _now_ , is that it? Save yourself the hurt. Keep good old Chloe from death now so you don't have to mourn her later?" She shook her head, her eyes thinning angrily. "You can't just _decide_ this for us, Oliver. You can't just let me go."

He flinched. _Don't let me go. Please, please just hold me._

"I'm not letting you go." He licked his lips. "I'm... I'm trying to save you in the long run." His shoulders tensed up and he could feel the burn in his throat. "I just want you to be okay."

"I'm okay now. I'm alive now," she told him, her voice a harsh whisper. "I'm standing right here! I'm breathing, I'm alive, I'm crying for godsakes!" She shook her head, stepping back from him, her hand pressing flat against his chest. "This isn't a dream, Oliver. This is _life_. And you can't be afraid of what's _going_ to happen or you'll miss out what already happening." She lifted her hand up to swipe away her tears and set her jaw. "For weeks, I thought you'd just... You'd tell me what was wrong and we'd work it out. But you _avoided_ me. You let yourself suffer and worry and you let me wait for you. You brushed me aside, over and over again. For what?"

"How many times have you died?" he asked her, his voice a growl. "For us? For others? Time and time again, I see you lying there, pale as death, and yeah, okay, you get better, but that's _this time_ , Chloe. We don't know how this works. It could be a nine lives type thing and the next one is _it_ for you. You're out there, every day, chasing after the story and the bad guy and whatever. Your luck is going to run out and I can't be there to watch it happen. I can't help you get closer to it!" he yelled.

She threw her arms up. "And what about you? You go out every _night_ Oliver. You live the life of Green Arrow; chasing down those same bad guys. So what, your life is less important than mine? It's okay for you to die, but not me? It's okay for you play hero, to save the world, as long as I'm safely locked away in a world of fake perfection? I know what this world is like; I know what lives out there. You think if I'm not with you that's all just going to fade for me?"

"Why do you have to do this?" he asked, stepping forward. "Why do you have to live this life? Why can't you be like all those other people out there who go about their lives with no understanding of what the world is really like? Why can't you turn a blind eye for once? Just blend in and step away from all the hurt and the death? Why?"

"Because that's not who I am!" she screamed, her tears escaping down her face. "I'm the story and the hero and I can't be anyone else. I can't be that girl you need; the one who'll never get hurt or die or _fight_. I'm _me_ ; Watchtower, intrepid reporter, Chloe _fucking_ Sullivan. And I'm not going to pretend I don't know what's going on. I'm not going to avoid the pain and the hurt and, yes, the _death_ that this life throws at us." She reached up, pushing her hair back and wiping away her tears. "You loved that about me once."

"I love that about you _still_ , I'm just not willing to let it take you away from me," he told her, his voice lowering.

"How I live, who I am, that's not what's taking me from you. _You_ are what's pushing me away. Every day I reach out and every day you ignore it." She shook her head. "What do you want me to do or say? Because I don't know anymore, Oliver. I don't know what I'm supposed to do to make you look at me or hold me or love me."

"I do love you," he murmured.

She shook her head, backing up. "You told me once, that courage is being afraid but fighting anyway. Love is never walking away when things get hard, but standing next to each other, holding each other up. Cowardice is turning your back when the outcome is uncertain, afraid that you'll make that wrong decision and leaving those you care about so that you don't have to _feel_." She sniffled, eyes brimming with tears. "I never figured you for a coward, Oliver Queen." With that, she turned, ready to leave. And with each step she took, it felt like another nail in the coffin. His eyes fell shut, the pounding of his heart reverberating in his ears. What was he doing?

Three long strides took him to her and his arms wrapped around her, turning her around abruptly. "I'm not afraid to love you. I'm afraid to lose you. And I know that this seems completely backwards; I get that now. I'm sorry. You don't know what it's like to fall asleep with you in my arms, completely content, only to dream of losing you. Of having you die in my arms, or completely out of reach but right there, in front of my eyes, where I can do nothing to save you." His throat burned intensely.

"Every night, I know what that feels like, Oliver," she told him, her voice quivering. "You put on your suit and you grab your bow and you go out there and you save those people, but who's there to watch your back? Who's there to save _you_? You don't think I worry? You don't think I'm terrified that one night you're just _not_ going to come home?" her voice cracked at the end and she closed her eyes tightly. "The difference between me and you is that I'm not willing to lose you any earlier than I have to." She turned around once more, ready to leave but she paused. "And I'm willing to love you until that day rather than spend every waking moment waiting for it to happen and missing out on the in between." Taking a shuddering breath, she bit her lip. "Goodbye Oliver." Her steps were sharp and decisive and he could hear her words repeating, over and over, in his head. He could see his future walking away; feel that last part of him that could make it through each day dwindling the farther she got.

"Chloe," he whispered harshly. He lifted his eyes, catching her gaze and holding onto it. "There is nobody who means more to me than you do. Please..."

She bit down on her lip hard, turning her eyes upward to avoid the incessant tears. "I won't be your fear, Oliver. I won't be what you regret in your life."

"You could _never_ be a regret." He shook his head vehemently. He remembered days that were carefree; holding her as they laid on the couch. He remembered how sweet her laughter used to be; times when he didn't always fear losing her. He remembered how it felt to make love to her, all morning long. Kissing those shoulders and those thighs, caressing her from head to toe. He wanted those times back. He wanted to be able to touch her and love her and never worry about whether it was the last time. "Please?"

She turned her head to the side, eyes falling. "Don't you _ever_ push me away like that again."

"I promise," he declared, nodding.

She stared at him speculatively and for a moment he thought perhaps she'd just leave anyway; forget him and the burden he was. But then she was walking back toward him, her eyes set clearly on his. Her arms wrapped around him tightly and he buried his face in her shoulder, arms wrapping so tight around her, as if scared that if he let go now, she'd leave and she wouldn't come back. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated against her hair.

She ran her hand up and down his neck soothingly. "I'm here," she told him, kissing his ear. "I'm not going anywhere."

He closed his eyes, stopping the tears from escaping and squeezed her, sighing. He would have to trust her on that, because he couldn't lose her, in any way, shape, or form. It felt so good to have her in his arms, to hold onto her and not feel the need to push her away. He wondered if his grip was too tight but she didn't tell him too loosen up. "Tell me about them," she whispered. He shook his head; he didn't want to remember what it felt like. "They'll never happen and maybe if you tell me, you'll never have them again."

She pulled back just enough to look up at him and then took his hand, leading him back to their bed. She crawled in front of him and wrapped his arm around her waist, playing with his fingers. She felt warm and _right_ against his front, their legs entwined. His face rested against her hair, at the crook of her neck. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the nightmares spill forth, the darkness and the loss and the fear in every shaking word. And she listened, without interruption, running her fingers up and down his forearm and tracing his fingers. And when he was done, when every nightmare had been relived in word, she rolled over to face him.

She laid there, her mouth so close to his but not yet touching. His arms tightened around her, one of his hands burying in her hair. The city lights shadowed her figure, lighting up her face just enough for him to see those beautiful green eyes of hers. He slanted his lips against hers, dragging his tongue over the seam of her mouth until she opened it to grant him entrance. Their tongues twined and she rolled back, him following to cover her body with his own. Her hands found his and entwined to lay against the bed. Her knees drew up, cradling him between her thighs. Panting, their mouths parted.

Her eyes fluttered open to look up at him. "Hold me and don't let go," she murmured, her hot breath whispering over his lips.

He kissed her from her temple to her lips. "I'll never let you go."

 _Never_.


	61. Ask Me Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver makes a proposal Chloe can't refuse anymore.

 

Oliver entered his apartment with a smile as he heard Chloe moving around in the kitchen. No doubt she already had the coffee out and was making a large pot. The rest of the League would be by in the next half hour or so for business. He shrugged his suit coat off and draped it over his desk before walking off toward the kitchen, kicking his shoes off as he went. It'd been a long day and despite wanting to rest, he knew it was about to get longer.

He was glad he got home when he did though, because the conversation he wanted to have with Chloe was better done in privacy. He'd given her a future to think over and she'd been avoiding answering him for the last few days. He didn't want to wait though; he knew what her answer _should_ be, he just didn't know what it _would_ be. She could be stubborn, even if she knew it was right.

Four years she'd been playing their unofficial Watchtower whenever time, work, and the world permitted. And when she wasn't, she was just as adept as getting into trouble. He couldn't count how many times he'd found her tied up, on the verge of being killed, or escaping with a bullet wound that, yes, would heal, but didn't hurt any less. She admitted her powers to him three and a half years ago, and then to the rest of the League six months after. And she'd been shocked to find them all so accepting. But she was their Watchtower, his Sidekick, and there was nothing she could do or be that would ever make them turn their backs on her.

When he'd told her that the future could be different than the one she thought she'd have, she hadn't exactly jumped in glee. She had a lot of worries; Clark and Lois being the main two. And he wanted to say that he understood, but he really just wanted to give her everything and he felt like she was holding back when she could have so much more. The world in the palm of her hand; but she refused it still. So busy thinking of everyone else, she wasn't thinking of her own happiness. Her own future that could involve so much more than just being Superman's sidekick and hidden away in Lois' shadow. She no longer had her work at the Daily Planet and though she wanted to be an investigative reporter, she often walked away from those scoops to help them bring down the worst of evil around the world.

As he entered the kitchen, she was pouring cream into her favorite green mug. She looked up, a grin tugging at her mouth. "Well if it isn't my knight in tight green leather," she greeted.

He smiled back, walking over to take his already-made coffee from next to hers. She always anticipated his arrival. He turned his eyes toward her inquisitively. "Have you thought over my proposal?"

She sighed, walking to the table to take a seat. Looking up at him, she shook her head while stirring her coffee in a nervous habit of hers. "I'm just not sure, Oliver."

He sat down next to her, their arms touching. "Can't avoid the inevitable, Sidekick."

Her mouth quirked in a smile. "Oh really?"

He nodded, turning toward her. She met his eyes, her brow lifted in humor. "Some things are just mean to be."

She let her gaze fall, but he could see the blush lingering on her cheeks. "You're getting a little soft, aren't you, Ol?"

He reached out, trailing his fingertip over her cheek and running it around the shell of her ear. "What do _you_ want, Chloe?" As she opened her mouth, he interrupted, already seeing that look in her eyes. "Not what you _think_ you should want, or what others want for you. Don't think about what Clark would want or what Lois would decide. This is _your_ life and I want _your_ answer."

She looked up at him, her mouth pursed. "It's never that easy."

"It _is_ ," he said with a slight chuckle. "I'm asking you to think of yourself, for once. You spend your whole life thinking of others and now is when you get to make a decision concerning only you."

"It doesn't _only_ concern me. It concerns everyone. Clark needs me; Lois needs me-"

"I need you," he told her, his voice low.

She turned her head toward him. "What you want sounds beautiful and honestly, it's so hard to say no. Traveling the world, moving to Star City permanently, being with you and the League officially..."

"You could've had it years ago. _This_ could've happened years ago," he assured, shaking his head slowly.

"It was too soon," she murmured, eyes falling to her coffee.

"It's been three and a half years, Chloe," he disagreed, frowning. "I asked you six months in."

"Yes, and after six months how could you know?" she said, voice raising with disbelief.

"You doubt me?" he asked, lifting a brow.

She turned her eyes away.

"You think I'll change my mind later?"

"It's such a _big_ decision."

"And it's one that I made three and a half years ago. One that I've been trying to convince you of since." He reached out, fingers clasping around her chin and turning her head back. "Think of your life now and the one you wanted and ask yourself which one you _really_ want to live."

She stared at him, eyes glazed with tears she refused to cry. "You're asking me to give up my life."

"I'm asking you to _live_ your life. A better one that you thought you were destined for. I'm asking you to live it with me and the guys and become who you were always meant to be." He shook his head. "You can avoid it for however long, but eventually you're going to have to admit that you weren't meant to be an underappreciated reporter in the basement. You weren't meant to stand in the shadow of Lois and Superman. You were meant to be at the forefront, at my side, not behind me, but _with_ me. You were meant to be so much more than what you have now, Sidekick." He shook his head, frowning. His hand spread along her cheek, thumb stroking her skin delicately.

She lifted her hand, covering his, fingers falling between his. Her eyes fell shut and she sighed. "Ask me again."

His brows lifted. "Really?"

She nodded, her mouth quirking with a slight smile. "Ask me again."

His eyes thinned. "I dunno, Sidekick. I'm feeling a little rough from all of your rejections, here."

She rolled her eyes. "Just ask me."

He crossed his arms. "I'm not feeling the love here. How do I know you're not just baiting me?"

"Oliver..." she groaned.

"Can you blame me?"

She sighed, lifting a shoulder. "What? Big bad Oliver Queen isn't used to hearing no?" she teased.

He suppressed his smile. "Admittedly, no." He chuckled arrogantly, eyes boring into her. "Even you are usually pretty agreeable. Just the other morning-"

She leaned back into her chair, shaking her head. "My answer is changing by the second."

"All right, all right," he said, standing from his chair with a grin. He took her hand, brow still lifted with uncertainty.

She smiled, squeezing his hand. "Ask me again," she told him, soft, sweet, and encouraging.

Taking a deep breath, he fell to one knee. "Despite having done this at least twelve times, I'm still going the romantic route," he told her. He noticed her teeth bite down on her lower lip, but this time it wasn't with anxiousness like all the times before. He swallowed tightly, thumb stroking her palm. "Wow, this never gets easier," he admitted quietly.

She chuckled softly and he felt slightly uplifted.

He turned his gaze up to catch her vibrant green eyes. "I've been in love with you for almost four years and I can't remember a day where I didn't want to wake up and see you next to me. You said six months was too soon and I accepted that, even though I knew that in another six months I'd ask again and hope the answer was different. I knew what I wanted then and I still know. I've never stopped wanting this and I'm never going to."

He smiled as her breath stuttered and she bit down harder on her lip; she always did that when she was getting emotional. "You're my best friend, my partner, my inspiration, and... my _hero_." He nodded slowly, as if to further prove to her how he felt. "I can't imagine spending my life with anybody else and I don't want to." He shook his head. "I don't know how many times I've asked, but if you say no, I know that I'll continue to keep asking." He smiled gently, squeezing her hand as she blinked away her tears. "You're worth it and I know eventually..." he grinned, "I'm going to wear you down."

She laughed, sniffling.

"So..." He cleared his throat, feeling a little hopeful and a little worried and a lot nostalgic. "Will you marry me?" _And everything that comes with it?_ Watchtower; full time. Travel the world at his side, leave behind Metropolis and the title of Superman's sidekick. Allow herself to flourish on her own; without Lois or The Daily Planet. To move on to greater things, accept that the life she wanted wasn't what she'd live, but it didn't have to mean she couldn't still experience the world to its fullest.

She stared down at him, a tear slipping down her cheek before she nodded, letting her lower lip free of its confines. "Yes," she whispered.

He grinned, wide and thankful and excited. Instead of standing up, he tugged her off of her chair until she was sitting in his lap. He slid down to the floor, no longer kneeling, and hugged her. Her arms wrapped tight around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder as she cried happily, hands stroking up his neck and into his hair.

"You promise you're not going to change your mind?" he asked, slightly worried. He wanted her to be sure; he wanted her to want it as much as he did.

She shook her head, tugging away from him only slightly until she was looking up at him. "Ask me again tomorrow and my answer will still be the same." She brought her hands around to cup his face and smoothed her thumbs over the plains of his cheeks. "Ask me again the day before we get married, and I'll still say yes." She licked her lips. "I never wanted to marry anyone else; I just wanted to be sure that you really wanted this."

"And the first twelve or so times didn't show that?" he asked, slightly confused.

She let her eyes fall. "What we do, who we are, that's not easy. I wanted to know that you loved _me_ , and not just the idea behind me. Watchtower, knower of all secrets..." She lifted her eyes to him quickly before diverting them. "And I know I've been difficult on the subject but... These things I was feeling..." She shook her head. "They've never happened so _fast_ , they've never been so _strong_. I just... I wanted to be sure it wasn't a side effect; that it was real."

"It's very real," he assured, lifting his hand to brush her hair off her face and draw her eyes back to him. "I love you." He smiled slowly before leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "And I'm going to love you fifty years from now."

She sighed, eyes falling shut as she leaned into him. "I love you, too." She smirked mischievously. "And really, fifty years? You'll be like _eighty_!"

"And still just as handsome," he replied arrogantly, lifting a brow.

She laughed, shaking her head at him.

He leaned forward, capturing her grinning mouth in a deep kiss. Caught by surprise, she gasped into the kiss before meeting him just as strongly. Her arms wrapped around his neck while her body turned to meet his. Teeth gnashed, lips bruised, tongues tangled. He felt a warmth fill him from head to toe and when her body leaned into him, he slid back until he was lying on the floor. Her hands slid down from his neck, skimming along his biceps before smoothing down his chest on either side of her. Their frenzied breath mingled in between the slant of their mouths. His hands slid up her back, bunching her shirt up into his palms. Her thighs parted, legs falling to either side of his hips.

"Dude! The _floor_ too?" Bart's loud exclamation interrupted them. "Must you christen _everything_?"

Chloe broke apart from his mouth, panting and grinned up at the short League member. "Yes," she told him blunt and easy. "You know you're favorite chair?" she asked with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"LA LA LA LAAA!" he yelled loudly, plugging his ears. "I CAN'T HEAR YOUR LIES!"

She laughed, letting her head fall against Oliver's chest.

"Not to interrupt, but I thought we had a meeting today," Victor said, lifting a brow as he leaned against the counter.

"We do," Oliver replied, his hands running up and down Chloe's back absently. "Where's AC?"

"On his way." Victor shrugged. "Did you know about his plan to steal all of the fish from the market just to get back at them?"

Chloe sat up, legs still straddling Oliver as he laid on the floor. "Yeah, he told me last week."

"And you didn't talk him out of it?" Victor shook his head slowly.

Oliver found either of Chloe's hands and played with her fingers on top of his chest, listening to their conversation with half a mind. Her ring was sitting on her Watchtower station, right next to a picture of them, open and waiting for her to finally accept. It was the perfect fit for her slim finger, he knew. The first time he proposed, he'd slipped it right onto her hand and waited for her to wake up, all the while tracing her every curve with his forefinger. Sleepily, she'd reached out to run her hand through his hair, just like always, which is when she found the glinting diamond winking up at her. She'd told him it was too early and he'd accepted that she might have reservations, even if he didn't. Six months later, he asked again. The answer was still the same, and so he asked a few months after, and then again and again and again. Her answer was always that she wasn't sure. Never no, but never yes. And while he disagreed that it was too early or that neither of them were ready, he knew that he couldn't make the decision for her.

There was a content feeling now that her answer was yes. He didn't feel like he was just waiting for the moment where her answer would be a firm no. As if all of her uncertainty was leading up to the moment where she'd tell him that they weren't right for each other and it was time to stop what she might consider a charade. For three and a half years, he was enraptured by her; her spirit and her loyalty and her insight to the world around her. How easily she got along with the League guys and how confident she could be as Watchtower. How beautiful and tender she could be in the early morning or how sleepy but sensual she was at night. He loved every inch of her; even her insane knack for getting intro trouble. The curiosity of hers that always seemed to draw her into the worst places possible and the most inopportune times... They were all part of her, and he'd long ago accepted it.

"Earth to Ollie," Bart said, snapping his fingers above the man's face.

Oliver looked over at him, brows furrowed.

"As gross as it is to watch you moon over Chloelicious, I have a hot date tonight and so we need to get this meeting _started_!" He grinned, hopping up onto the cupboard and clapping his hands.

"Butt off the counters!" Chloe told him, shaking her head with a frown. "People _eat_ there."

"And people _sit_ in my favorite chair!" he told her, pouting as he crossed his arms. "Like me! I sit there! So you have to stop doing _that_ in my special chair! You don't see me-"

"I'm not sure I want you to finish that sentence," Chloe interrupted, eyes thinned with suspicion.

He grinned at her, winking as he shrugged.

"AC arrived yet?" Oliver wondered.

"Yeah, like ten minutes ago." Bart looked amused. "Pretty sure you were admiring Chloelicious' fingers." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Chloe slapped his dangling leg and motioned for him to hop off the counter. With a frown, he jumped down from the counters and sat down on a stool.

"She finally say yes?" Victor wondered.

"You make it sound like it's been completely illogical for me to wait," Chloe grumbled.

"Dude, it's been, like what? Four years?" Bart shook his head, rolling his eyes. "You knew you were gonna say yes, so say it already!"

She sighed. "Three and a half and I might remind you that the first time he asked-"

"You'd only been dating for six months," AC, Victor and Bart interrupted in monotone to mock her. "We know!"

Her lips thinned as she glared at them.

"We're just saying," AC said, coming around the island to lean against the counter next to them. "We all knew what was coming, you knew you'd eventually yes, and Oliver was _never_ going to give up." He shrugged, taking a gulp from the large jug of Sunny D in his hands.

"Hey, hey, hey, that's public juice!" Chloe said, waving her hands at him in annoyance. "Use a glass!"

"See, you're already acting like an irritating wife!" Bart exclaimed, amused. When she turned to glare at him, he lifted his hands in surrender. "I mean an irrit _ated_ wife, you could _never_ be irritating!"

She rolled her eyes, sighing.

"As amusing as this is, I also have a date tonight," Victor said, raising his brows at the four.

Chloe slowly rose from the floor while Oliver sat up and climbed onto his feet, smiling slightly as Chloe brushed off the back of his jeans of any floor junk.

"So, you never really answered our question," Bart said, quirking a brow. "She say yes or you still riding the unmarried train?"

Oliver smirked. "I'm happily engaged."

"Sweet!" Bart grinned. "Hey, this means you're officially stuck with us!"

"Nice bro!" AC told him, reaching out clap his shoulder.

"Congratulations," Victor agreed. "And, _finally_!"

Chloe put her hands on her hips, making a face at them all before walking into the main room. "Come on, let's get to work. I too have a date tonight."

"First I heard about it," Oliver mumbled, walking in after her.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't planning on being proposed to today and was going to pull a Monica and Chandler on you later. Looks like I can call the restaurant and tell them to cancel booking the whole place for privacy." She lifted a shoulder as she grabbed the remote up from her desk and pointed it at the overhead.

Grinning, Oliver stepped up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist. "You were planning on proposing to me, Sidekick?" he asked, low against her ear.

She turned her up to him, her mouth twisted with a smile. "Couldn't avoid the inevitable forever, could I?" She tipped her head so it leaned against his shoulder. "Figured I'd take the initiative this time." She lifted a brow. "Course you almost blew my cover earlier and I couldn't exactly say no to that proposal of yours." She smiled softly.

God, he loved her. He kissed her, slow and deep.

She'd finally said yes; of all the questions in all the world, her answer to this one was his favorite.


	62. I KNEW It!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois' instincts had been off a few times, but she just knew they were meant for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Honestly, I think I've said this before, I've never really been a Lois fan. But seriously, I really enjoy writing her! lol Hope you enjoyed this! Reviews are sustenance, readers! Luv yas - Fina!_  

While walking through the mall, Lois often made a trip to her favorite lingerie store and today was no different. She didn't always buy something, but she enjoyed browsing. Seeing as she really had nobody to model them for, she wasn't exactly enthusiastic when she stepped into Lace & Silk, but when she spotted the ultra sexy pink teddy a few racks away, her interests were perked. Now, she wasn't exactly on the market, but she wasn't off it either. Currently, she was ignoring any and all feelings related to a certain farmboy. She had a feeling the lingerie she was looking at would turn even _him_ to goo. But she shook the thought out of her head. No! She wasn't going to do this to herself. Clark Kent was simply not her type. He was boyish and- and- shy and totally too nice for her to put up with. She liked them a little dangerous, a little bad boy. But he was... Just plain not. Still, there was a charm to him that awoke something inside of her.

With a sigh, she continued looking through the bra and panty sets (of which she owned most of). So, she enjoyed the odd lace undergarment to wear underneath the far too conservative outfits she was practically forced to wear to work. What ever happened to casual Friday? When she spotted the naughty little green number, her mind wandered. Symbolically, the color always had her remembering her once hot and entirely too angsty relationship with Oliver Queen. Who, as she knew quite well now, never would've worked out with her. Sure he was that little bit of bad she liked in a man and far too sexy for his own good, but he lived a life that she just wasn't ready for. She could understand the appeal of saving the world, but she wanted a boyfriend, not a hero. So she let him loose and now she was quite content with how it had turned out.

Oliver, who often played Green Arrow by night, was still in her life, much to her earlier chagrin. It was a little hard to get away from an ex when they were close friends with her cousin and her current, much ignored, interest. While she'd been a little spiteful in the beginning, it was in her nature as a scorned lover of sorts, she'd grown to think of him as a friend. And in doing so had begun scheming to get him together with his perfect match. While Clark had often rolled his eyes at her theory, she knew it was right. Oliver and Chloe would be _perfect_ together. They met on an intellectual and professional level. He was a hero with a fetish for leather; she was a ballsy reporter who often found herself in danger. He fought for all that was good while she searched out the bad and brought them to justice through her trusty laptop. It was all right there in front of her like a blinking sign. And she'd seen the flirting; it was pretty hard to miss. Well, unless you were Clark Kent and then you were numb with an oblivious nature that screamed ‘I'm a virgin, do me now!" Or maybe that was just how she looked at him. She frowned. Ugh, she needed to get laid. Preferably by a hot farm boy. No! It was just a side effect of being single for so long.

She frowned. How long had it been? Oliver was two years ago, Grant was nearly the same, and then there was a small string of guys who just didn't measure up. Far too often her boyfriends turned out to be the villain she was researching; she was beginning to think she'd picked up Chloe's problem. Maybe it was genetic. Hmm...

In any case, she had decided that while the two appeared to ignore her subtle hints (ie: "You guys doing it yet?"), she was sure they'd work out if they gave it a try. Chloe, no longer working at the Daily Planet due to the Luthor infestation, had officially become the Watchtower to Oliver's Green Arrow and his band of dorks in costume. Which often meant that her cousin time was rare and far too short. Add that to the con list of Chloe playing hero, she decided. Still, it was in the name of justice and all that uplifting crap Oliver always spewed to new recruits.

The point was, and she really did have one, why not mix a little business with pleasure? They could balance the ‘saving the world' bit with the ‘let's get naughty under the sheets,' couldn't they? Sure! She'd just buy them both a day planner and they'd be set. 5 pm - hunt down criminals, 8 - nookie, 10 - call Lois with details. Fantastic! Now all she had to do was convince the two that they were meant to get it on!

Admittedly, it wasn't just that she thought they'd work out well getting a little frustration out of the way. She could tell that there was something there. Oliver trusted Chloe in a way he basically just didn't do with others. She had free reigns of all things Queen related; the jet, the gear, the apartment. Hell, he'd probably hand over his Platinum Visa card if she held her hand out, but being Chloe, she never took advantage. That was probably where all the trust came from. He knew that whatever happened, she was doing it for the greater good. If she used the jet, it was because she needed to be somewhere for someone else. She was just that type; just like him. She looked at the world and wanted the truth to come out, to help fix it. He looked at it and thought of how he could make it better. And they looked at each other and saw an equal.

It wasn't easy at first, when she noticed the way that Oliver laughed with Chloe. It wasn't the same laugh he had with her. It was more open, deeper, more real. He wasn't holding back with her. When he talked to her, there were no hidden messages or miscommunications. Whatever was happening, he told her about it. And he was tender with Chloe; in a way Lois had never seen before. The way he looked at her, smiled at her, brushed her hair behind her ear, or how his hand always fell to the small of her back. Then there were the less obvious things like how his mouth quirk whenever he picked up his phone to find out it was her or how the rest of the world seemed non existent when they were having one of their banter filled debates. Maybe he didn't know it now, but he was so totally falling for her.

Lois Lane knew her cousin; Chloe was like a sister to her. So when it came down to it, she knew who she liked, who she was crushing on, and who she was head over journalistic genius for. She might've had a far too long crush on Clark Kent and maybe she even had a grossly overstayed relationship with Jimmy Olsen, but her feelings were very much directed in Big Green Leather's direction now. It was all in the body language; how she tilted her head while jutting out her hips. How she tipped her head to the right and smiled that sneaky, almost seductive smile of hers. How she leaned in while he talked or bathed his wounds for him as if he couldn't do it himself, all the while chastising him with barely concealed worry. Chloe was the type of woman who usually fell for the wrong guy and when she found the right one, he eluded her. But when she fell, she fell _hard._ And for once, it was with the right guy.

It wasn't easy to accept, but it was true. There had been a raw sexual feeling between Lois and him and she'd loved it. She'd loved him once as well. But there were meant to be's, never should've happened's, and it was good while it lasted. They fell in the last category. She could see that Oliver and Chloe were in the first. She was adamant not to think of where she and Smallville might fit. It was easier to focus on her cousin's non existent (but should be) relationships rather than her own.

While she was looking through the supposed to be cute plaid g-strings, she heard a voice that made her straighten up and thin her eyes in suspicion. She knew that voice; she knew it well. She turned abruptly, using the racks as her cover as she moved closer to the front.

"That'll be... Wow... Um, that's the most I've ever charged," the sales girl said with a giggle. She looked up at her customer with a saucy grin. "You got one lucky girl there. Nine hundred, seventy three dollars and twenty four cents." A platinum card was passed her way and the girl's eyes widened. "I guess this is just chump change to you."

He smiled slightly. "I'm the lucky one," he said simply.

Her expression softened. "Aww..."

He shifted awkwardly before reaching for the bag. "Thank you."

"No problem. Come back any time." She perked up, smiling. "There's a sale on Sunday and if she loves green, which judging by what you just bought she does, she will _love_ this sale!" She lifted a hand.

He nodded farewell and moved to leave. Lois chased after him, catching him off guard as she appeared in front of him, wide eyes and suspicious. "I didn't know you were dating anybody," she said, brow furrowed. She was _sure_ that he liked Chloe. And maybe her journalistic spark had been a little off from time to time, but she _knew_ chemistry when she saw it and they definitely had it.

"Where did you just come from?" he asked, looking around rather suspiciously.

"Don't dodge my thinly veiled accusation, Queen!" she told him, frowning as she lifted her hands to hips. "When'd you start dating? Or are you gonna tell me the lace is the new leather?"

He rolled his eyes, clearing his throat. "Yeah, well, I'm seeing someone." He shifted around on his feet, his eyes turning off. "And I should go... See her... Now." He started walking lifting a hand as if to wave.

Yeah right! He wasn't getting away that easy. She caught up to him, her long legs stretching to follow his wide gait with only slight discomfort. "Hold on a second," she said, shaking her head. "Who is she? Why haven't we met her? Or have we? Does Chloe know? She hasn't mentioned anything!" Her eyes thinned with suspicion.

Oliver sighed, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes. "Exactly _when_ did my private life become your business?"

She snorted. How cute, he actually thought he was exempt. "Please, Oliver! You are no different from anybody else. Your business is my business. I'm a reporter. It's my job!"

"She is none of your business. I'm not telling you if you've met her because then you'll make a list and start following them. Yes, Chloe does now." He shook his head. "Maybe she didn't mention anything because she knew you'd act like _this_!"

She scowled. "Hey, I'm just looking out for you. Let's be honest, the majority of us have dated a few crazies in our lifetime!"

He laughed. "Trust me; she's not one of those."

"Yeah, that's what we all say in the beginning..." She rolled her eyes. How naïve! He was the Green Arrow from crapsakes; she thought he'd be a little more careful.

He came to a stop just outside of the mall. She hadn't realized they were walking _that_ quickly. A car waited for him, the door already opened by the driver. Stupid rich people; she was going to have to walk. And her feet already hurt from the three hours she spent window shopping. "Look, Lois, I know you're looking out for me... In your own weird way... But my relationship is my own and it's really important to me. So if you could just... Leave it alone for awhile," he said hopefully, lifting a brow at her.

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine. Whatever." She turned her eyes away. "But if she turns out to be some crazy life sucking bitch, don't call me for help!"

He chuckled. "Thanks for the advice." As he turned to leave, she sprung into action, grabbing the bag from his hand and opening it. "Incredibly mature of you," he muttered.

She stuck her tongue out at him and pulled out a sheer green teddy with matching thong, the black stitching making it even more appealing. She whistled, brows lifting. "Hot," she commented.

He rolled his eyes, reaching out to take it from her.

"Not really your size though," she teased.

"Har har," he replied.

She snorted, turning away from him and reaching into the bag once more. She found a pale green babydoll that she was rather jealous of and a ruffled bra and panty set that she was pretty sure she put on hold the week before, except in red. A matching dark green camidoll set and a satin nightie with a cute garter belt finished off his lingerie gift. "You've got some good taste," she mentioned.

"Thanks." He reached out and pried the bag away from her. "Now that you've ogled her underwear, can I go, or did you want to grill me some more?"

She lifted a brow. "That's rhetorical, right?"

He shook his head, half grinning as he slid into his limo seat. "Always nice seeing you, Lois."

"Yeah, I know," she returned, waving before she turned on her heel and back toward the mall. She had some shopping to do!

A few days later, after going over how she would tell Chloe, she finally made her way over to her cousin's apartment. She knew that Chloe and Oliver had a League thing to do so she'd be out of town, once again, leaving Lois on her lonesome, _once again_ , to go fight crime with her hot infatuation, **once again**. She was growing to dislike the band of do-gooders! Who was she supposed to commiserate with boys over buckets of ice cream and sappy movies? When she considered calling Clark, she knew she was in trouble.

So it was with wracked nerves that she stood outside Chloe's door, wringing her hands and going over her speech once more. Maybe she'd read the signs all wrong and Chloe _wasn't_ into Oliver. And maybe Lex Luthor wasn't so bad after all. She rolled her eyes. With a deep breath, she knocked on the door and then opened it. No use in pretending she was the least bit polite. She walked right into the apartment, calling out her arrival, only to find said cousin in her bedroom, packing her suitcase for the trip. She was starting to wonder why she didn't just keep it packed all the time.

"Hey cuz!" Lois greeted. Too overenthusiastic, she decided, when Chloe looked over at her with slight suspicion.

"Are you okay?" she wondered.

"Who me? Yeah! Sure! Of course!" She wrinkled her brow, pursing her lips. "Why wouldn't I be? Did you hear something? Are you okay?"

"Uh, Lois?" Chloe said, chuckling.

"Right, sorry, I'm just a little... uh nervous." She wiped her palms on her thighs and licked her lips. "You know, recently, things have just come to light and I thought... You might want to know. I know you'll say you don't care." She tipped her head, eyes lifting. "But you will." She lifted her hands. "Deny all you want but I know what I've seen so there's no point in lying. Just keep it honest. I'm not going to judge you, I am _totally_ okay with it. Well, not with what I came to tell you, but the other thing, the you and him thing, not the him and her thing. Okay?"

"Wait... _What?_ " Chloe shook her head. "Don't repeat _all_ of that, just the stuff that makes at least a little bit of sense." She went back to folding up her clothes, packing them all away in the giant green suitcase Oliver bought her as a "Welcome to the team," gift. She couldn't remember where they were going, but it was apparently fairly fancy. She'd already seen her little black dress, favorite heels, and a top that just screamed "Sexy!" packed away for later use. That wasn't her usual outfit when fighting evil. In fact, she usually just wore her every day clothes while setting up shop at a lap top in some hotel room as far as Lois knew. There were the odd recon missions where Oliver and Chloe played the sexed up couple and used it against unsuspecting guards to get into room they weren't allowed in, but she was fairly sure this wasn't one of those missions.

"See, I ran into someone the other day. A certain someone who I think somebody else might really, really, _really_ like and I thought this someone liked the other person but apparently I was wrong. Or... Or maybe that someone was just, you know, hiding their feelings. Or covering them up by seeing someone else. But with what he was buying..." Her brows rose, "It's a little less _coverage_ than he was probably going for."

"I'm still completely lost," Chloe admitted.

Spotting green out of the corner of her eye, Lois looked up to see something she was sure she recognized from somewhere. The hot little green teddy she'd seen three days prior was staring out at her. Her mouth opened slightly and she tipped her head. She didn't want to jump to conclusions though. There was chance that maybe she'd made it to the sale the girl had been talking about. But then she was packing away every single item she'd seen Oliver buy - even the cute little garter belt with the white bow on it.

Of course, being the investigative reporter she is, she went about it very, very carefully. "Oh my god, you're banging Oliver!"

Chloe paused in her actions, her mouth falling open and then she raised her eyes to look up at her in shock. And just as stealthily, replied, "Oh my god, how did you know that?"

"What?" Lois shook her head. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Chloe stepped back guiltily, biting her lip. "Where exactly did this revelation come from?" she wondered, eyes wide.

"I've seen that before," she said, pointing to the green negligee.

"Wait, what?" She shook her head. "When?" Her hands found her hips and she took on a defensive posture. "Why?"

"Whoa, not like _that_! I haven't been after Boy Billion for _years_!" She lifted her hands, nodding emphatically. "In fact, I've been telling Smallville that you and Ollie totally want each other, but he didn't believe me. Now I have _proof_!" she exclaimed proudly.

"Oh, hey, Lois, no!" She shook her head. "Would it be too much to ask you to just...Leave it alone for awhile?"

She sighed. "You're the second person to ask me to do that and I gotta tell ya, I wasn't exactly thrilled then."

Chloe rounded her bed to walk over to her, her expression already pleading. "Look, we're not... We're not _trying_ to be secretive, we just... We want to give this a try without everybody sort of... deciding for us. You know? I mean, if the guys knew, they'd sort of be on the fence about it. They'd want us to be together but they wouldn't want to be too pro the relationship just in case it didn't work out. And this way if we don't then... There's no side choosing, right? Nobody gets blamed. We'll just... go back to being Watchtower and Green Arrow and not..."

"Chloe and Oliver, the dynamic doing it duo," Lois said, half-smiling.

Chloe snorted. "Uh yeah, you could put it that way."

She sighed, letting her hands fall to her sides in forfeit. "Fine. I won't tell anybody. But just so you know... The lingerie begs to differ on the "not working out" front."

Chloe rolled her eyes before hugging her. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah." Lois pulled back; she didn't want to get too sentimental. "If he hurts you though, let me know." Her brows rose. "And he won't need that voice distorter _any more_."

She laughed. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Not enough," Lois said with a casual shrug.

There was a knock at the door and Chloe's eyes took on that slightly giddy look that Lois _knew_ meant the subject of their conversation had just arrived. "Secret rendezvous?" she asked.

Chloe flushed slightly. "We sort of have a date tonight." She lifted a shoulder. "But I am going out of town for the next couple weeks, so if you wanted to spend some time together, I totally understand."

She seriously considered saying yes, but then she saw that hopeful glint in her cousin's eyes and she gave in. "No. Go ahead. You can give me all the naughty details after."

Chloe smiled before moving past her to open the door. Standing there was a grinning Oliver, holding a bouquet of tulips. Lois knew right then, as she watched her former flame stare into her cousin's eyes as if she created world peace all on her own, that the two were doomed for a happily ever after. Without pause, Chloe leaned up, rising on her tiptoes, and Oliver lowered his head, their mouths meeting in a short but sweet kiss. He lingered for a moment, pulling back only a fraction before he pecked her lips once, twice, three times before finally drawing away. "For you," he said, handing her the flowers.

She inhaled their scent before backing into the apartment and motioning to the kitchen. "I'll get a vase," she murmured.

As she walked away, Oliver's eyes followed her. Not in the lustful, check that ass out way either. But in the adoring way that clearly told Lois he was _all in_ when it came to their relationship. She stepped out of the doorway of her cousin's apartment and cleared her throat, rather pleased to see his startled expression. "So... This would explain why Chloe _knew_ about the secret girlfriend."

He lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck but his poker face was in place. "I can't bring a good friend flowers once in a while?"

"It helps that you're in a hot and heavy secret relationship," she replied with a shrug. "Saw the lingerie, no use coming up with elaborate lies."

He sighed, looking a little out of place.

"No worries. I won't tell. You're too-adorable-for-her-own-good girlfriend already convinced me." She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "And since I've warned her, I'll warn you too, hurt her and the world will be one hero in the negative."

He nodded. "Understood."

"Good," she said, nodding shortly. They stared at each other for a moment, a silent communication passing. She was happy for them; maybe even a little proud that they'd finally got it together. But while she supported them, she was still looking out for Chloe in any way she could.

Chloe reappeared from the kitchen, her coat and purse in hand. "What are you plans tonight, Lo?" she wondered.

She shrugged. "Figured I might call Smallville, see if he wants to get a pizza and enjoy being antagonized for awhile."

Chloe grinned. "Have fun."

"You too."

Oliver helped her put her coat on before she hooked her arm with his and the two of them left the apartment, glancing back at her in goodbye before closing the door. With a sigh, she crossed the apartment, grabbing the phone on her way. She moved over to the windows to sit on the ledge, looking up at the dark night sky. It was unlikely that the cities current savior, Green Arrow, was going to have any time to roam Metropolis that night, helping the good and punishing the bad. He had his hands a little full with a certain blonde beauty. Her eyes fell to the car waiting outside and she watched as the couple stepped out of the apartment building. Chloe's head was tipped to the side, resting against Oliver's arm while he was turned slightly to smile down at her adoringly. She didn't know what they were saying, but she knew whatever it was, it made her cousin that much happier. Yeah, they were definitely in the ‘meant to be' category.

Lifting the phone, she dialed a familiar number and waited for the man she would one day have to admit was her own first category to answer.

"Hello?" replied the deep voice of Clark Kent.

"I KNEW it!" she exclaimed into the phone.

"Knew what?" he asked, confused.

"I can't tell you, but I just thought you should know that you were wrong and I was right! Get used to it, Smallville!" she told him smugly.

He snorted. "Is this all you called me for?"

She leaned back against the frame of the window, watching as the black limo drove off into the night. "No. I'm bored, lonely and hungry. How long before you can meet me at Chloe's with an extra large pizza, a tub of ice cream and a chick flick that will make even _you_ weep?"

He sighed. "I'll be there soon."

She smiled. Maybe she'd lucked out a bit herself.

"You want fat free ice cream since I'm getting a whole tub of it?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "There are a few things you still need to learn about women, Smallville." She shook her head. "In fact, I think I'll write you a manual."

"There's a spell check button on your computer. Do us both a favor!"

Ugh! He was so _infuriating!_   "Just get over here! And you know what? Now I want _two_ sappy chick flicks!" Hah!

She knew he was frowning and she couldn't help but grin.


	63. Stained Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just a few more seconds," she whimpered. "It'll kick in. It has to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #1 - Blood
> 
>  **Warning** : Character Death

It was everywhere. The thick, red, warm liquid coated her hands. She pressed harder, her eyes filling with tears at his groan of pain. It wasn't working. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get her powers to kick in. There was no light, no draining, no stop for the blood that streamed from the dark hole puncturing his abdomen. She kept trying, sucking in air and shaking her head as if to make the tears lessen, to clear her sight. But they wouldn't stop and the blood kept coming, and he just laid there in agony, accepting his fate.

He covered her hands with his own, trying to still them.

"Needs pressure," she choked out.

"Stop," he told her.

She shook her head. "Just a few more seconds," she whimpered. "It'll kick in. It has to."

"Stop Chloe," he repeated softly.

And she turned to look at him, wanting to tell him that she couldn't. She couldn't let him go, couldn't stop trying. She just couldn't lose him.

"It's okay," he said, his fingers twining with hers, his blood gushing between them. "It's okay."

She shook her head violently, a sob escaping her throat. No, it wasn't. It wasn't okay.

He drew her down to lay next to him and she ignored the way the world seemed not to notice or care. The man who shot him was long gone and she knew later, her sadness would turn to anger, to hatred, and she'd hunt the sonuvabitch down. Make him bleed just like Oliver was now. She laid her head on his shoulder and he hugged her close. She pressed against him, wanting to touch and hold all of him, not caring that his blood was soaking through her clothes. She couldn't call an ambulance, he refused to let her. He wanted his secret kept, even in death. And Clark was nowhere to be seen, no matter how loud she cried.

It was just them, in a dark alley, holding each other. He shed no tears, he made no cries of pain. He just held her. "It's okay," he murmured against her hair, over and over, until he was gone. And she was left with nothing but stained hands and a broken heart.  



	64. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His touch was blinding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #2 - Passion

She'd never known anything like this. The simplest of touches, a brush of his fingers against her cheek, and the whole of her was on fire. Those same fingers had evoked the same feeling with each touch; in far more intimate places than just her cheek. It was like electric currents of awareness running through her, from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.

Every person before him felt like an inexperienced boy. Barely scraping the surface of her; finding a pretty girl and an opportunity to fill a need. But with Oliver it was so different; vastly and immensely different. When he touched her, he _caressed_ her. Rough fingertips grazing soft flesh not because he could, but because he needed to. His hard lean body pressing her up against a wall, hands roaming over and under clothes, pushing them out of the way for just a little hint of her skin. He wanted, needed, desired _all_ of her. The flat expanse of her stomach, the curve of her hips, the back of her knees, her small round toes even. He'd kissed, touched, _loved_ every inch.

And with a simple look thrown her way, she knew he was thinking of it, remembering how it felt and wanting an encore. This was them; a never-ending dance of heat and want and having. Any time of the day; any hour or second they were near each other. He could put his touch through words; a short phone call and a few words spoken in that deep voice of his and she was Jell-O. Near or far, she was stuck in the passionate haze of Oliver Queen.

She knew his reputation; he was a fantastic lover but he didn't stick around. That wasn't what was happening here though. Oh he stuck around, he deigned never to leave. He was there when she woke up, bare of clothing and sprawled out on his back next to her, hand reaching across to touch her. She woke up to him lazily kissing her shoulders or stroking her hair, watching her with that dazed expression of adoration some mornings when she knew she didn't look nearly as appealing. But he loved her still, loved the soft expression of sleep still covering her face and the mess of her hair as he slid his fingers into it, holding her face close so he could press those slow, lingering kisses that made her forget anything existed but him.

She couldn't remember how it happened, she just knew that one day they were friends, co-workers, _partners_ , and the next he was inside of her. Deep and full and _god_ it was the most intense thing she'd ever felt. And it never ended; not like how she'd been warning herself it might. Days became weeks and then months and then a couple years passed and those feelings didn't dim. They were there, always, waiting to be acted upon.

The brush of his hand against her cheek and she was already weak in the knees, looking up at him with that sweet, seductive smile of hers.

"What are you thinking, Sidekick?" he asked.

She reached out, her palm sliding against his cheek and she saw it - right there. That same reaction she always got when he touched her. The glazed eyes, stuttered breath, shaking with need expression. She licked her lips, feeling an inner triumph as his eyes follow the path of her tongue. "I'm thinking about what we _should_ be doing right about now."

He smirked, arm wrapping around her waist and drawing her up against him. "I can arrange that," he murmured, before pressing his lips to hers.

And all the world was but a background to the passion that was them.


	65. Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had only one question in his mind; repeating over and over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #3 - Why?

He wanted to throttle her. Shake her and scream and yell until he was hoarse and the shaking from his feet to his head had stopped. But she was lying there, so still that there was no point. She couldn't hear him. Couldn't move or talk or shout back her explanations. She'd given her life to save his after he specifically told her never to use her power on him. _Never_. He didn't want to be that last straw; the reason she never woke up. If he were dead it was because of his own foolish actions. But he couldn't explain away her death. He couldn't accept that she died because of _him._ He wouldn't.

She promised; she told him with that angry, stubborn expression of hers that fine, yes, she wouldn't save him. He could die for all she cared. And then she stomped off into the night. And he'd trusted she'd stay true to her word, even after they made up and were back to being just Oliver and Chloe, two friends, two partners, two lovers that pretended they didn't love. He knew where his heart was, he knew who it wanted. And he could see her own, so innocently left open on her sleeve. He could read it in her expression, feel it in each laugh she made. And he wanted so desperately to let go, to have her, to love her for the rest of his life. However long that might be. But his first priority was the world and he wouldn't let her become his weakness, the target of his enemies.

That no longer mattered though, because here she was, pale and lifeless and the stab wound that recently scored his chest was gone, not even a scar in sight.

He had only one question in his mind; repeating over and over. _Why?_ Why would she do it after all that had happened? All that time spent telling her all the reasons she shouldn't save him. _Why?_ After all the times death had come knocking and he'd barely escaped; where she dutifully stood by him, not reaching out like she wanted and healing the wounds here or there, the scratches that marred his skin. _Why?_

But then she woke up, gasping for air and reaching out in shocked pain for just a second. And he was so overcome with relief that his question evaded him. All he could do was hug her to him and thank god that he'd been given one more chance. One more moment to hear that laugh and see that smile and have that heart. He wouldn't waste it this time; not on questions he'd always known the answer to.  



	66. Abnormal Life and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's wasn't the usual romance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #001 - Romance

There's wasn't the usual romance. Their dates weren't even considered normal, when they could get through one uninterrupted, that is. The lives they lived left little room for regular courting. They knew each other inside and out long before they ever entered the area of infatuation. In fact, she pointedly ignored that area for a very long time. He had a large red X on him, reminding her day to day that he was very much off limits. The ex of her cousin, the vigilante hero, her boss and friend... It just wasn't boding well. But he had a certain charm to him and when his own feelings became apparent, "no" was a word he wasn't used to hearing. Even if she repeated it, a lot, and constantly told him it simply wasn't going to happen.

Somewhere in between denying him and fighting back her feelings, they wound up making out in a storage closet while on a mission. She brushed it off, called it a moment of weakness; a rush of adrenaline that caught her unawares. But then it happened again, and again, and _again_. Until finally, she had to admit, maybe there was a little, tiny, almost insignificant amount of chemistry... that often exploded into a passionate love affair that had her exhausted all night and begging for it all day.

In any case, Chloe Sullivan's life was not normal. Her relationship with Oliver was also not technically classified as normal. To onlookers, yes, it probably appeared usual. They held hands, they kissed, they made the "sex me" eyes to each other, and more often than not, they flirted when they shouldn't. But behind the scenes, where the normal people of Metropolis or Star City didn't see, their life was completely unusual. Battling bad guys and fighting evil was not on most people's schedule. And so... it goes without saying that Chloe expected her relationship with Oliver to eventually lead to nowhere. Their lifestyle didn't call for the white picket fence and the 2.5 children with the golden retriever and the minivan attached to it. That wasn't to say she didn't think about it. She spent more time wondering what it would be like to be Mrs. Oliver Queen than she probably should have. Her shrink (if she had one) would have a field day.

So when he made gestures, like he often did, that meant more than just a casual relationship that was doomed to end, she tried to tell herself it was nothing. When he stocked his cupboards with her favorite foods and coffee brands, she tried to shrug it off. When he gave her the key to his apartment, she assured herself it was just because of work. And when she came over for dinner to find flower petals strewn on the floor, candles on every surface and her favorite songs playing in the background, she just told herself he was really, _really_ good at wooing a woman into his bed.

She called him a romantic. Right from the get-go she knew that behind the stoic veneer and confident smirk, there was a passionate man inside of him that would love with every fiber of his being. And when he had that woman in his reach, he did. She'd only seen a mild case of it with Lois and later on that passion was seen in his work and his dreams of saving the world. But she didn't truly know the extent of his heart until she let go of her passive attitude towards his gestures.

She accepted that he filled the cupboards for her because he took an active interest in what she liked and what she desired and he wanted to provide it for _her_. She looked at the key as one very giant and huge step for him, giving her complete access to _all_ that was him. And the flower petals, the music, the candles... they were all such a clear sign that what he wanted with her was not casual and it was not something he took lightly. He didn't need to _try_ and get her into bed seeing as she willing and happily went whenever possible. And when all those defenses of hers fell, when all the excuses she made to keep from falling disappeared, she found what was standing in front of her all along.

A man; a man who loved her; a man who cherished and adored her; a man who wanted to spend forever holding her, keeping her safe, and saving the world with her. Now, that man could not guarantee a life of perfection, not even with his billions of dollars. He could not guarantee safety or even what was considered an acceptable lifetime. A life spent with him more likely than not meant the abnormal. Days and nights spent tracking all the wrong people, trying to find the right in the world. Years and years of being unknown and faceless heroes to a world that didn't even know it needed them. So there would be no awkward getting-to-know-each-other first dates or meeting for coffee after not seeing each other for a few days. Because they spent most every day together, trotting the globe, doing good where they could.

Chloe Sullivan did not live a normal life. She did, however, live an abnormal life with a man who was deeply in love with her and willing to show her in every way possible. When crime fighting wasn't at hand, at least.


	67. Gifts from the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver Queen had the ability to give her the whole world on a platter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #5 - Gift

He had the money to take her anywhere in the world. The means to get her every gift she could ever want; shiny, electronic, coffee based, etcetera. But what she loved most was that he never pulled out those stops with her, because he _knew_ her; knew her enough not to go for the big gestures so much as for the little ones. Like making her coffee for her, just the way she likes it, and serving it to her in bed. Like buying her a bouquet of flowers he knows she'll like rather than the overused dozen blood red roses.

He doesn't shower her with presents that glitter or draw attention. Instead he lavishes her with his sole attention, those warm brown eyes of his meetings hers intensely, always filled with a level of fondness unreached for others. After long weeks spent hunched over a computer, her reward isn't what some might expect. Instead of sending her to a top dollar spa, he rubs her feet and massages her shoulders himself. He buys oils and he strips her down to nothing, lays her down on their bed and kneads every inch of her until she's thrumming and humming and rubbing her thighs together in anticipation.

From the very beginning she knows she's different. There's a comfort between them, a friendship that bloomed into an intense and passionate relationship that some part of her already knows is the infamous "forever." And she's knows she's right when the first ever gift she received from him was an ornament his mother adored; one Oliver had kept all those years, told her how it used to sit right next to his mother's perfume bottle. "I think she'd want you to have it," he told her, smiling slightly. She kept it next to her own perfume bottle, on the dresser they shared. Every time he saw it, his lips would quirk in that reminiscent way.

Oliver Queen had the ability to give her the whole world on a platter, but he knew that all she wanted was him. And he gave her him, his heart, and all that came with it every single day for the rest of their lives. And Chloe Queen considered it the best gift she'd ever received.  



	68. Defining Sentences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 50 sentences that define Chloe Sullivan and Oliver Queen's relationship/life together.

**#01** \- _Comfort_

If it were possible, she would name him the most comforting person alive and people wouldn't believe her, they'd say she was exaggerating, that a man like Oliver Queen, be it in his billionaire aristocrat form or his death-defying green leather attire, he just wasn't the type, but she knew him, better than anyone, and those arms, those whispers against her ear, they were like none other; even Clark Kent and his red plaid couldn't compare.

 **#02** \- _Kiss_

It burned into her, scorching her insides, marking her lips like an arrow cutting through the brisk air; his lips caressed hers, abandoning all thought to absorb her in her entirety and she was lost to him, happily.

 **#03** \- _Soft_

Her hair was softer than the finest cashmeres of the world, he could waste his billions searching for something that poorly resembled her hair but thought it much more frugal and enjoyable simply to love her and the softness that so contrasted with her strong self.

 **#04** \- _Pain_

There was a searing in his gut like someone had stuck a knife deep inside and was twisting it, turning until he could no longer stand the agony, but they wouldn't stop, they continued to score his flesh, to flay him from inside out and he could do nothing but sit in his catatonic pain, remembering how still she laid in his arms, how he knew she wouldn't wake this time; she was gone for good and the best of him had followed.

 **#05** \- _Potatoes_

She refused to let the cook do all the work and so she sat at the table, legs crossed, peeling potato after potato for the fundraiser housed there that night, sharing idle chit-chat with the many staff they had on their payroll, thinking nothing of the fact that she was supposed to be the glamorous Mrs. Queen, wife of a billionaire later that evening - it was sights like this that made her all the more incredible.

 **#06** \- _Rain_

The rain glided down her cheeks like a dead lover's lips, mixing with hot tears as she glared up into the heavens, silently screaming for an answer to all of life's questions; nothing but the thunder rumbled around her and she was left with the ache of a further broken heart, hoping, wishing, she'd spot green leather slicing through the air toward her, despite the knowledge that it would never appear, that he was long gone and never to return.

 **#07** \- _Chocolate_

He'd forgotten, nothing new, but when she returned from work she found every surface in their bedroom was covered with every kind of chocolate there ever was while he stood in the center holding a heart-shaped box and wearing an apologetic smile; she could do nothing but forgive him.

 **#08** \- _Happiness_

He just wanted her to be happy, that was his excuse; it hurt more to know that he thought leaving her, his way of keeping her safe, was his idea of making her happy, when all she wanted, needed, was _him_.

 **#09** \- _Telephone_

Long distance relationships weren't for everyone but she wasn't willing to give him up for anything and the telephone may be their only connection at times, but they were holding strong and she could do a _lot_ over a phone to keep them on their toes...

 **#10** \- _Ears_

There was a spot behind his ears that made him jerk with erotic attention; the groan that escaped his throat was raw and exciting, the sound made her squirm, made her want him just as badly as he obviously needed her.

 **#11** \- _Name_

He knew the depth of her feelings just by the tone she said his voice with - all the women before her had said _Oliver_ with intense lust and desire, but never, _ever_ with the deep seeded adoration, respect and love that she did, whether she was sighing, moaning, crying or yelling it, he always knew how she felt.

 **#12** \- _Sensual_

There was never a more sensual creature than Chloe Ann Sullivan - many tried, all failed - and he was never more happy for the fact than the night of their wedding, when she stepped into the room in green lace and a mischievous smirk and he was so obviously clear that this was the woman he'd spend his life with, completely and utterly content.

 **#13** \- _Death_

The day he died she was 64 and had lived a life that others would need centuries to even remotely resemble - all that she'd seen and done, all of whom she'd saved - but her greatest accomplishment, what she cherished more than all else, was the husband she buried that afternoon and followed into death the next morning.

 **#14** \- _Sex_

He'd made love in his lifetime, or he though he had, but the night he laid down with her, spending hours, what seemed like days, caressing her every inch and involving himself in every sweet, aching inch of her, he knew that whatever he experienced before compared nothing to this; the first time Oliver Queen made love, it was with Chloe Sullivan, and he vowed never to share it with anyone else, because no other could compare.

 **#15** \- _Touch_

She gasped as if it was her first time, as if no man had ever touched her so intimately, so lovingly, and when his fingers scoured her with intense desire, he found his fingers shook as if he too had never touched a woman before, as if her exquisite body was the first he had ever honestly, reverently, explored.

 **#16** \- _Weakness_

 _She's yours weakness_ \- he heard it in his head whenever he got too deep into his Arrow persona and his alter-ego was adamant that he not have one, that he do all that was in his power to be the strongest, the most fierce hero there ever was, but weakness or not, he couldn't give her up, he loved her too much to live his life without her.

 **#17** \- _Tears_

He prayed to whatever spiritual being there was that her tears were of happiness and not dread or fear, that when he asked her that question, the salt water that escaped down her cheeks were of pure joy and exhilaration; he only knew he was right, only breathed a sigh of relief, when she smiled brilliantly at him, and then he knew her answer - _YES!_

 **#18** \- _Speed_

There was a desperate need inside of him to have her and his only antidote was to ride out into the night, his bike revving angrily beneath him, the pavement disappearing beneath the leather tires so quickly it was as if he was flying - he wondered if it was the adrenaline high that kept him going, that let him go on without her touch a little longer, or if he was only racing away from reality, from his other half who waited patiently for him to stop speeding off and simply face the truth.

 **#19** \- _Wind_

The breeze rushes around them, making her blonde hair dance around her face, framing her beautifully as she stares up at him, waiting; a green leather hand lifts, cups her wind-kissed cheek and he leans forward, forehead to forehead, and finally gives in - he won't run away from her, them, anymore.

 **#20** - _Freedom_

 _You're trapped_ , she tells him, shaking her head as if he couldn't understand and he doesn't, not until the day he sees her smiling at someone else, someone who isn't him, and he realizes he's been hiding himself, barring his heart to all that it needs, deserves, and when he asks her how he finds his freedom, she smiles, holds out her hand, and he knows he's going to experience something truly life-altering, for the better.

 **#21** \- _Life_

He's certain he's living a life more fulfilled than most others could imagine, that the heroics and the friends he's gained makes what he's seen and done so much more than everyone else, but when he sees those same friends fall in love, get married, start their families, he realizes he's missing out on something so much more, and then he sees her, _really_ sees her and hopes he hasn't missed his chance just yet.

 **#22** \- _Jealousy_

 _What does he have that I don't?_ he asks himself over and over as she laughs at his jokes and lights up with every smile and when he realizes just what's he doing, he has two choices, ignore this bout of jealousy or take action; he never was one for forfeiting.

 **#23** \- _Hands_

They're beautiful, whether they're encased in green leather, stroking his favored arrows before launch, or enticingly gripping and exploring her body with tender adoration, they were the most exquisite of hands; she may be obsessed, but rightfully so.

 **#24** \- _Taste_

Better than champagne, than dining on the most exquisite of food, was the taste of her; a kiss, her tongue stroking his, her supple lips his for the taking, she was a flavor new to him and he found himself thoroughly and happily addicted.

 **#25** \- _Devotion_

More than women, than money or his business, he found himself devoted to his heroism, to the Green Arrow and all that he embodied, but when she came into his life like a breath of fresh air, wanting no more than to help him in his fight, to stand at his side, he found a whole new devotion for someone who deserved, welcomed and cherished it.

 **#26** \- _Forever_

Forever didn't seem long enough to spend with her; if there was more time out there, he'd take only this one last selfish act and steal it all for them to spend in eternal bliss.

 **#27** \- _Blood_

It was thick and red, coating his hands with a desperate flow he couldn't stop; he was certain he'd never be able to wash it from his hands, no matter how hard he scrubbed, and he feared that the stain would always remind him of those last moments, holding her, wishing he could trade places.

 **#28** \- _Sickness_

It spread like a sickness, the crime-rate at an all time high, and he stared down at the world with confused disgust, wondering how, _why_ , feeling defeat creep up like a never fading shadow, but then she was there, taking his hand, promising, "We'll fix it," and he believed her.

 **#29** \- _Melody_

While others had songs that were overdramatic proclamations of empty love, there's was a rock song - the first she ever played over the comms to keep the overwhelming thrill of the mission from suffocating them; and the others could shake their heads in confusion, but he felt their song fit them just right.

 **#30** \- _Star_

The bright burning stars above their home, the city itself named for such beauty, compared little to the strength of her beaming, warm smile directed his way.

 **#31** \- _Home_

When he returned to Queen Manor and didn't feel the immediate clenching of his gut, some vague hope that his parents would greet him, but instead smiled warmly as _she_ came around the corner, arms full of papers and hair in comfortable disarray, he knew he was really _home_.

 **#32** \- _Confusion_

He didn't understand at first, why seeing her smile at a man who wasn't him made his fists curl and his stomach ache, but then his team was giving him that knowing look and he realized what he'd been avoiding all this time; he'd loved her longer than even _he_ knew.

 **#33** \- _Fear_

She'd never known fear like she did the day he stumbled back to his apartment, pale and drenched in blood, smiling half-heartedly and telling her it was just a scratch - but there was absolutely no fear when she willingly gave away her life to try and save him, welcoming the white glow of her power and appreciating it, truly, for the first time.

 **#34** - _Lightning/Thunder_

The white-blue glow of the sky-shattering lightning bled through the window and lit her up magnificently as she rode him like the most erotically entrancing creature alive; the rumble of the thunder that followed each time had her hands clutching his just as tight as her hot clenching walls around him, bringing them higher, closer, to their simultaneous end.

 **#35** \- _Bond_

He'd never known a bond like this with anyone before, but when she was there with him, smiling, laughing, voicing her honest truth, the connection shared was deeper than anything he could imagine and he vowed never to take it for granted.

 **#36** \- _Market_

He usually had someone go out grocery shopping for him and returned to a fully stocked apartment, but she adamantly dragged him out to show him how it was done; he spent three hours in a small market around the corner, pretending not to know the first thing about buying his own food just to spend more time with her.

 **#37** \- _Technology_

While Cyborg could easily handle any small or large problem that arose, he found himself calling her for every technology-related thing he could, needing her grin and her mocking smile more than his own pride some days.

 _#38_ \- **Gift**

The day he gave her a slideshow picture frame that ranged from photos of her mother and her when she was a little girl to Bart wearing a tutu after he lost a bet, she realized that the real gift was having him in her life and knowing that he knew her better than anybody alive.

 **#39** \- _Smile_

There was nothing more intoxicating, more invigorating, that receiving a Chloe Sullivan smile as a 'job well done' and he knew he was so far gone there was no going back, but he honestly couldn't care.

 **#40** \- _Innocence_

There was a different kind of innocence about her, one that never died as the world seemed to be falling apart all around them and he fed off of it, kept going only because of it, and she helped to keep him from becoming the jaded superhero he one day feared he'd become, for that he could never thank her enough.

 **#41** \- _Completion_

Their gasps filled the room around them, their hearts racing so strongly, he swore he could hear hers beat in time with his own; he reached for her hand, held on tight, and stared drowsily at the ceiling, the only feeling better than that of completion, was of knowing she'd always be right there with him to share it for the rest of his life.

 **#42** \- _Cloud_

She said it looked like a sleek arrow, all he saw a white fluffy cloud slowing making its journey across the blue sky; he looked harder anyway, wishing he could see what she did with her bright green eyes, so maybe then he could find out just what it was she sought in a man, if only to be it for her.

 **#43** \- _Sky_

The sun set low in the sky, the landscape glowing an orangey yellow as he danced with her held tight in his arms, their bare feet gliding over lush green grass; their son rolled his eyes from the upper floor, calling them mushy, but their daughter sighed, and hoped one day she'd marry a man who loved her just as much.

 **#44** \- _Heaven_

There were times when he questioned the sanity of the world, the point of dragging on the green leather, and then he woke up another morning with her in his arms, her soft, warm body held tight, and it was the closest to heaven as he'd ever come, reminding him that there were still reasons to go on, to keep fighting; surrender was no option.

 **#45** \- _Hell_

He hollered to the sky, screamed and cried, the veins of his throat pulsating with rage, but there was no answer, no calming hand against his cheek; she was gone for good and the remnants of the vibrant woman she once was laid still in his lap, never to wake again.

 **#46** \- _Sun_

She watched the sun rise, blinking against the bright rays that filled her vision through the slats of the venetian blinds; for a moment, she feared it was all a dream, but then his arm tightened around her and she smiled, snuggling her face into the pillow - it was finally coming true, her happily ever after.

 **#47** \- _Moon_

If she asked him to shoot down the mood and drag it from the sky with one of his high-tech arrows, he'd spend his life trying, that's how he knew he'd love her enough for three lifetimes.

 **#48** \- _Waves_

She chased their son into the oncoming waves, lifting him up by his small arms and laughing as he kicked his legs at the water; he watched with a sense of peace he'd long wanted and rose from the towel to follow his family into the ocean, a grin large enough to split his face in half surfacing as he caught her eyes.

 **#49** \- _Hair_

He dosed in her lap, fast asleep after a long mission that had the entire team dragging themselves off to bed with a grunt of recognition to her; he'd laid down on the couch and the second his head found her thighs, he was snoring, she lovingly stroked his hair, just happy to have him home in one piece.

 **#50** \- _Supernova_

It was like a supernova exploding from low in her belly, fanning out up her chest and across her shoulders, spreading down her arms and settling in her tingling fingertips; his thumb caressed her lower lip and when he swallowed, letting out a shaky sigh, she knew he felt it too.


	69. Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's not what you think."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #003 - Forgiveness

He chased after her, fear prickling his skin and anxiety rushing through him. "Chloe! Please!"

Despite tears and heartbreak, she was across the apartment and in the elevator before he could even finish his plea. He took the stairs, rushed down them so quickly he nearly tripped an uncountable amount of times. He was out of breath by the time he hit the main floor, but he wasn't sure if it was exertion or panic. He rushed through the door, nearly slammed it against the far wall, and bee-lined it for the elevator. It opened just as he stopped and he stood, breathing heavy and staring at her in front of him. Tears streamed down her face, her cheeks flushed, her eyes broken, the heart she wore on her sleeve falling and shattering with each passing second.

If it were any other situation, he'd take her in his arms, cradle her close, kiss her hair and promise that whatever it was, he'd fix it.

"It's not what you think." He cursed himself the second the words left his mouth. How clichéd.

She scoffed, laughing with derision and her hand lifted, wiping at the tears, smearing her mascara across her cheek carelessly. "Yeah, right. Don't feed me the lines, Oliver. I've heard them before. This isn't my first go on this ride, remember?"

He shook his head, his throat tightening. "Please, just listen to me."

Her jaw clenched and her eyes turned away, arms crossing over her chest as she stepped out of the elevator and stood, waiting.

"Dinah came over; she said she had to talk to me about the League. I honestly thought that's all it was."

She snorted indelicately.

"And it _was_ for the first few minutes so I didn't think anything of it. I knew you'd be home soon and I figured Dinah would leave then. But then..." He shifted on his feet. "I wasn't expecting her to..." His brow furrowed.

"To kiss you," she finished, voice neutral, eyes still staring away.

"Yes." He glanced at the floor and then back at her. "I never... I've never had those feelings for her. I still don't."

She didn't say anything, staring out across the foyer, eyes set on the doorway leading far away from him. And he knew if he let her go now, it was done. Everything was over.

"I'd never risk you, Chloe. Not for someone I don't even care about in that way." He stared at her searchingly, brows lifting. "You really think I'd give you up for her?"

"I didn't until tonight."

He sighed, eyes closing for a minute. "It was a mistake. A rash decision on her part that hasn't changed anything." He reached for her, hand falling to her arm only to find her flinch. He winced but refused to pull his hand away. "Chloe?"

"I need to go."

"Don't do this," he pleaded, his voice wavering slightly.

"I didn't _do_ anything." Her eyes thinned, mouth setting in a frown.

He stared upward, cursing Dinah for ever coming over. "I thought you trusted me."

She turned toward him, her eyes shone with tears. "And I thought I was enough for you."

"You are!" he half-shouted. "I don't want her. I never wanted her. She's just... I don't even know what she is. She's confused, I guess." He threw his hand up. "I knew you were coming over, I knew you'd be here any minute, do you really think I'd cheat on you like this? It's not only incredibly cruel but ridiculously stupid."

She bit her lip, eyes staring downward, lashes damp with unshed tears.

He sighed, his loose hand reaching for her other arm, pulling her closer. He bent forward, pressed his forehead against the top of her head. "I know things have been hard lately and I know I'm the one who's been saying we shouldn't tell anybody. But that was never because I didn't love you. What you saw, what happened, it was one-sided." He closed his eyes, inhaled the scent all her; flowery and soft. His hand slid up, wrapped around the back of her neck, the ends of his fingers threading in her hair. "Please don't leave me over somebody else's mistake."

She sniffled, her hands reaching for him, landing on his sides, right over his ribs, clutching his shirt. "Walking in there..." she murmured in a choked voice. "Seeing her kissing y..." She couldn't finish, instead shaking her head.

"I know. I'm sorry. If I knew she'd do that..." He hugged her against him, burying his face in her hair.

Her arms slid around him, holding tight to his back. He could feel her tears through his shirt and he grimaced, hating that he hurt her, even inadvertently as it was. He didn't know how long they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, but when her crying finally stopped, he opened his eyes and let her go slowly, turning his head down to look into her eyes, now so much less broken than they had been. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Forgive me?"

She wiped at her face, half-frowning to hide the smallest of smiles. "You'll have to make it up to me," she told him.

He smirked. "What did you have in mind?"

She lifted a suggestive brow. "You have to ask?"

He chuckled lightly before slanting his lips across hers; thanking God that he hadn't lost her. For one very dark moment, he truly thought he'd just lost everything. As their breath mingled, tongues entwining, lips meshing together like so many times before and to come, he knew he'd be making it clear to everybody involved that he was hers and she was his and he wanted it to stay that way. Forever.


	70. Forever and Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His biggest regret was letting her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #004 - Regret

His biggest regret was letting her go. How many years had he carried that same heartbreak? Too many.

He'd moved on, or he supposed it looked that way. But she did; she mended her heart and she found someone better, someone who could love her without fear of losing her, someone who would protect her to his dying day. Oliver wished he knew he'd so the same so many years back; when things had been more complicated, when loving her meant telling the world that if they wanted him, they could easily target the woman who caught his heart with a quick grin and an off-handed snarky remark. But he'd lost her; played the, "I'm doing this for you," card and walked away from the only woman who he'd ever truly loved.

He didn't cry, even when his eyes pricked with sorrow at seeing her tears flow freely. "Fine," she said, lifting her stubborn chin. "You play the hero like always, Oliver. Play it until you're dead and alone. Because I can't mend it anymore - my healing powers only go so far." And she turned on her heel, walked out of his life and never truly came back. He saw her still, saw her at League meetings and spoke to her briefly during missions. But it was never the same; they lost the love and it was hard to accept that.

He was used to having a different Chloe; the one he could touch and caress behind closed doors, kiss her body from head to toe, stroke her most sensitive areas knowingly and hold her from sunrise to sunset. The Chloe of his past; the woman he'd once thought "I could marry her and live happy," with. That day never came though, not for him. Now she stood next to her husband, another hero, much darker than him. She stood tall against adversity, helped turn around Gotham in her own way, spat in the face of all those death threats and the rage they threw at her and her scathing bylines. She held Bruce Wayne's hand now, kissed him with just as much passion as she ever did him. It was Bruce who caressed her now, knew her body like the back of his hand, understood those little quirks that Oliver had memorized so many years ago and never forgot.

And here he sat, staring out at the Metropolis landscape from his high-rise apartment, his gear put away, his wife fast asleep in their large bed, unknowing of the inner turmoil her beloved Ollie still went through. Dinah was a good woman and maybe before he fell for Chloe, he could've loved her like she deserved. And he did love her, to an extent, just never as much as he loved his Sidekick. The woman who could brighten his day with one of her enigmatic smiles; who could simply hug him after a bad night of patrolling and he felt it all melt away, felt all the frustration that had built up just leave him as he wrapped his arms back around her. This small woman who had so much spunk inside of her, so much of _everything_ that he never really got past what he felt, what he still felt.

He saw her some nights, as he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He saw her there above him, smiling down at him just before she'd swoop down and kiss his lips, too light, not real enough, because it was never truly happening. A brush of lips, faint like a memory, never enough to sate him. So he'd go on regretting ever letting her go; ever telling her that it was for her own good. Because really, he was hoping to save his own heart, hoping that he could get over her and that she'd be safe away from him. Instead she found another hero to soothe her wounds and love her like he'd always wanted to.

"If I never turned you away, do you think...?" he asked her once.

She stared up at him, head tipped to the side. She was dressed in her wedding dress, waiting for them to tell her that it was time for her to walk down the aisle, time for her to meet Bruce at the end, to become Mrs. Wayne.

She reached up, cupped his cheek and stroked it there. He closed his eyes, let himself melt into that feeling, that comforting embrace he'd missed for so long. "I would've loved you forever."

He felt his heartbreak.

"Chloe," Lois called through the door. "It's time."

Her hand fell and he wanted to tell her that he was sorry, that he made a mistake, that they could run _now_ , that he'd never give her up again. "I..."

"I know," she whispered. He felt her lips against his, just a small, light brush, reminiscent of early mornings when he'd first wake up to find her sleepily smiling up at him, kissing him good morning before she rolled out of bed and left for the shower, beckoning him to follow with the sway of her naked hips. "It's too late."

He shook his head. It couldn't be.

"I'm sorry..." she murmured. "I love him. I'm marrying him."

"But..." He opened his eyes, stared at her with all the regret and pain he knew had been simmering inside for so long.

"You'll love again." She smiled at him, her lips shaking. "Don't let her go." She swiped a tear away and then turned around, hurrying toward the door, her satin dress hugging her beautifully.

"I love you," he whispered.

She paused at the door, her hand on the handle.

"I always will."

She looked at him over her shoulder. "I know."

He swallowed tightly, letting the tears fall as he closed his eyes, flinching as the door opened and closed. He could hear the music start outside; the wedding march. But he couldn't join in, couldn't pretend. He left; went back to his lonely apartment and stared up at the sky, just as he was now. Wished he could go back, right his wrong. No shooting star to be seen though and he continued to live the life he did, forever regretting that he never stayed with her. And he always would.


	71. Heart Over Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He always used his head... Until his heart took over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #8 - Follow

 

Oliver Queen always used his head; there was nothing more logical and proficient to lean back on. He'd learned early that the world was a hard place, one where a person must always be on the ball or face being knocked over and trampled on. But his head wasn't being listened to now, it was his heart that he was following as he leaned in closer, as his eyes fell to meet hers, such a vivid green. His head would tell him no, step back, keep it professional. His head would list the ways this could go wrong, how she could become a target, used against him if his identity was ever uncovered. To trust, to love, it was all weakness.

But his heart didn't want to listen to reasoning. His heart had long ago attached itself to the bright beauty that was the voice of the League, commanding them this way or that, keeping them safe in the maze of unknown buildings, searching out the enemy. She'd turned one of her big grins his way, his heart thumped, and from then on his mind had nothing to do with it. There was stuttering, nothing so unintelligible had ever left his mouth before then. There was even blushing, must to his constant chagrin. And she'd just look at him, lift a brow, and ask if he'd been sleeping properly.

Until now... Now when she was so close he could smell her body wash and her shampoo. Now, where her head was tipping back, her eyes staring into him with the same need, the same want. He wondered if her heart was hammering like his, if her stomach was tightening and her hands were shaking. He cupped her cheek, thumb stroking back and forth. There was no sensibility getting in the way now, only anticipation in each inch that disappeared between them. She wet her lips with her tongue and he swallowed tightly. Her eyes fell closed, dark lashes brushing her cheeks and he caught her mouth in a delicate kiss that quickly turned passionate.

When it came to Chloe Sullivan, he decided it was always best to follow his heart. His head wasn't thinking right, because obviously, they were meant for something more than what they'd been before. They were meant for something so much more.


	72. Years of Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hoped the world knew how much she and so many others had sacrificed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #9 - Haunted
> 
>  **Warning** : Character Death

Chloe Sullivan was no more.

In 2009, she became Chloe Queen and on November 7th, 2019, she became a widow.

In 2026, she would stand at the front of the Justice League and direct them in a battle of the ages. The worst of their enemies stood before them, ready for a war to the death and she stood without fear. She wasn't sure which of them took her husband, but she'd been plagued with his death since. She'd become another person entirely, taking up her position as Lady Justice, ready to serve it to all who stepped over that line. She was strong, ready, and no matter what they threw at her, she never fell. She rose up in defiance, making her League bigger, better, and making it known that all who opposed them knew that they would pay for their sins.

War would rage for too long, for too many years. But by 2031 it would finally come to an end. She would stand, broken and battered, her knees quaking. Many of her people were dead, lost in their fight for freedom and justice. Few stood behind her, still alive and ready to help put the world back together, but they had won. They'd won the war and the world back. They could save the people, save them from the cruelty and constant despair.

Not her, though.

She finally fell to her knees and for the first time since she held her dying husband in her arms, willing him to live, she cried. Her shoulders fell, her body slumped and she felt the blood course from the wound where her heart laid. She'd finally given all of herself for the war; she'd finally completed what he wanted. "For you," she whispered, staring up at the dark sky. She felt the rain fall, dousing the earth, covering the still bodies that lay across the broken land.

_"Marry me," he called to her, his voice muffled by the downpour around them._

_"You're asking me now?" she asked, soaked to the bone and staring at from through quickly blinking eyes. "Oliver Queen! I thought you were more romantic than this!" She laughed, shaking her head._

_He reached for her, took her in his arms and started dancing them around. Her feet splashed in puddles and her head fell back, the rain slid down her and soaked her hair. He twirled her, humming an unknown tune beneath his breath. He dipped her back and pulled her forward until she was face to face with him once more._

_"Marry me and I'll show you romance for the rest of your life," he promised, his lips curved with a grin, his eyes soft and loving._

_"The rest of my life, huh?" Her mouth quirked, a brow lifting._

_He grinned, kissing the end of her nose. "Marry me, Sidekick..." He twirled her out and then back in, his arms wrapped tight around her, her back against his front, her head against his shoulder. He swayed them back and forth. "I took two planes and I ran here from Queen Towers... I'm not leaving until you say yes."_

_"What if I don't want you to leave?"_

_He kissed her temple, squeezing her in his arms. "Then I'll stay forever."_

_She smiled, tipping her head to kiss the underside of his chin. "I choose that."_

Forever was too short. He'd taken one blow too many and no matter how much she cried, how much she willed her powers to work, to save him, how much she begged God to take her instead, he died...

_"Look at me," he whispered, his voice choked, his chest heaving and jerking._

_She stared down at him, her face burning with tears. "Help is coming, Ollie."_

_He touched her face, his finger following a tear down her cheek. "Save the world."_

_"I don't care about the world..." She shook her head. "All I want is to save_ you _."_

_He smiled up at her, mouth shaking with the effort. "Do this for me... Please... Save the world for me..."_

_"Okay," she breathed, nodding. "Okay."_

_"And then... Then we'll get our forever..." His breathing was labored. "I almost wish... I could take you... with me..."_

_She shook her head, sobbing heavily. "I wish I could come," she breathed._

_He ran his fingers down her face and her eyes fell closed at his touch. "I love you, Sidekick." His hand fell._

_"No, no, nononono..." She collapsed against his chest, pleading for him to come back._

On November 7th, 2031, Chloe Queen died.

She laid with her fellow heroes, staring at the sky as the rain fell in waves. For the first time in twelve years, she was at peace. His death didn't kill her a little more each day, his face no longer woke her from dreams in agonized loss, her arms didn't ache to hold him, her mouth to kiss him. She didn't have to put on the stoic face, keep her shoulders straight and play the strong fighter. She'd been broken for twelve long years, haunted by the loss of her most treasured person... And now she was dying, going to join him in their forever. She took her last breath as she stared up, the sun peeking through clouds and she hoped this was good enough, she hoped she'd saved the world enough. Because she couldn't go on any longer, not without him. She was done.

At 8:34 pm, Chloe Queen was no more and the world was officially given a new start, saved to try once more. She hoped it knew what she and so many others had sacrificed. All these years... for them. For him. 


	73. iPod Shuffle Ships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 shorts written to 5 songs

**I** \- " _Waste_ " by Seether  
**Rating** : K+  
**Word Count** : 493

"Come with us."

She turned her eyes up to stop the tears from pooling there and cracked a sad smile. "You know I can't."

"Why? Give me one good reason, Sidekick."

She could feel him behind her; the heat of his body against her back. "Clark."

He sighed, heavy enough for his breath to make her hair move. "I said a good reason..." he muttered and she knew he'd be frowning. "He's a good person... And a good friend. But..." He paused, sighing more lightly now. "Do you want to spend your whole life in his shadow? Or in Lois'?" His hands wrapped around her shoulders, steadying, warm. "You deserve better than that. Both of us do."

She looked over her shoulder to him, the sincere depth of his eyes making her stomach do flip-flops. "And what do you propose?"

He smiled then, almost mischievously. "We've got the whole world, Chloe. To save and search and live out our lives on... Do what we want, where we want, whenever we want." He licked his lips, the motion catching her eye. "Why stay here to be overshadowed by them when we can go out and make our own difference?"

She shook her head, gaze falling. "And what do your plans need a washed up investigative reporter for?" She stepped away from him, leaning against the railing, her arms crossed in front of her as she gazed solemnly out at the Metropolis cityscape.

He moved, standing next to her, mimicking her posture. "You're more than that and you know it... Just because everything seems to be trying to tear you down, doesn't mean you should lay down and take it." His brown eyes turned toward her then. "That's not the Chloe Sullivan I know."

Her mouth quirked. "Maybe not, but... I'm tired, Ollie." She let her eyes close and bit her lip.

He leaned across her, arm wrapping reassuringly around her. "I've been there and I don't want to see you disappear into that. You have so much potential, Sidekick. You want to save the world and I know you can." She felt his thumb stroking her shoulder and leaned into the touch. "Come with us... Come with _me_."

Her brow wrinkled in thought. She shouldn't. Clark needed her... Didn't he? He was off somewhere right now, probably saving people and remembering the story so he could tell it to Lois Lane who would then get yet _another_ Pulitzer...

"Okay," she breathed before opening her eyes and setting her mouth firmly. "Okay," she agreed, louder, more certain.

He grinned at her before leaning forward and pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. "Bart will be on cloud nine," he murmured, his breath skittering over her cheek.

She was more than sure that even happier than Bart was Oliver and she didn't mind that in the least. They were going to have quite the journey together.

 

 **II** \- " _Old School_ " by Hedley  
**Rating** : T  
**Word Count** : 343

It didn't matter how much time went by, it seemed whenever she saw him again, she wished she was still that 23 years old woman wishing for a way to touch him, talk to him, get him to smile at her in that certain way. The years changed, the world grew darker, and there was always something more important for their attention to be on. But those old feelings always came back, even if she had been away from him for quite some time now. She stared at him, chewing her lip, wondering if he might just pull on his green leather outfit; a memory sparked with the scent that filled her even without the leather anywhere nearby.

Times when she tugged the suit off of him, tossed it hastily to the floor, kissing the revealed flesh with frenzied lips and letting her hands wander all over his sculpted form. Those days were long gone; the rendezvous' on roof tops that had very little to do with actual work, the swinging in out of nowhere when there was no danger to fight off and pressing her against brick walls for a short moment where it was just him and her and nothing else. All the past, days she still longed for, dreamt of.

He looked at her, as if feeling her gaze, and his lips quirked like they used to, just before he snuck them away from the rest of the group so he could kiss her neck and stroke her back, his way of saying "Hey! I missed you!" But she knew it wouldn't happen now, even if she did smile back in that way that said, "I miss you still. Always." His eyes slid away to that room they always wound up in, dark and away from all else. But they wouldn't go. The past should stay where it was and they should stay apart. It was best that way.

She still wished each breath was filled with leather though. No matter how many years passed, she knew she always would.

 

 **III** \- " _Time After Time_ " by Cyndi Lauper  
**Rating** : K+  
**Word Count** : 412

"Chloe?"

She turned around swiftly, eyes wide. "Oliver?" She said it more breathlessly than she meant.

He grinned, a flush to his cheeks from the winter cold; her own had nothing to do with the chilly wind.

"Hey, it's been..." He shook his head.

"Too long," she finished nodding. Without thinking of it, she reached up and hugged him, a little too long she knew, but when she inhaled his familiar cologne, she just couldn't let go right away. Finally, they stepped apart, still both smiling. "Weird, I was just... I was just thinking of you the other day." _And every day before and after it._

He nodded. "Me too." He shook his head. "Well, I was thinking of you not myself, uh..." He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing at his neck.

She couldn't help but love that she still made him flustered. "Gotcha," she assured, winking.

"Yeah... Yeah, you did." He smiled at her differently, head tipping to the side.

Her brows furrowed, lips still curved up.

"Are you busy?" he wondered suddenly. "Tonight, I mean?"

She had a million and three things to do, actually. "No. I don't think so."

"Great. Um... Dinner? At that restaurant you love? Je T'aime?"

She loved it more because when he said it, she could pretend he was actually saying it to her, rather than naming off a restaurant. The food was great, atmosphere romantic, and it rolled off his tongue like the sweetest words on the Earth. "I'd love to." She nodded.

"Great... Great. Uh." He checked his watch. "I have to go, but... I can't wait to see you, again, tonight." He laughed, staring at her with those warm brown eyes.

"Me either." She nodded.

He leaned in once more, hugged her tightly and she swore he inhaled against her hair for just a moment. "Bye."

"Bye," she reiterated, watching him walk back toward the building he'd been headed to. She turned around, started walking and found herself in deep thought as she grinned widely for all the world to see. She swore, an entire century could pass and that man would still be able to make her feel like a princess meeting her prince charming. She couldn't count how many times she thought of him, remembered him, how many passionate dreams had been filled with his face and his hands and... She flushed down her neck and grinned. She hoped their ‘date' that night led to some of those constant dreams coming true.

 

 **IV** \- " _Your Eyes_ " by Alexz Johnson  
**Rating** : K+  
**Word Count** : 337

He was fairly sure he was completely obvious. He was worse than Clark mooning over Lois. He thought he'd been better at hiding it, but judging by the way everyone looked at him when she was around, he was pretty sure it was no secret. He wasn't sure when he fell for her; somewhere in between her laying her life down to keep their secrets and the day she decided to officially become Watchtower, telling Jimmy Olsen no to his proposal because she simply had a bigger destiny and wouldn't walk away from it. Sure, he felt bad for Jimmy, more because he lost an incredible woman than anything, but he couldn't imagine his own life without her, so he wasn't pushing for them to get back together.

Of all of her features, he's fairly certain they can all be summed up by her eyes; green, vibrant, utterly inescapable. They catch hold and they don't let go; their intensity, their depth, the range of emotions shown in them in 2.5 seconds... If he hadn't fallen for her before, the second her eyes turned toward him, he fell all over again. She'd smile, her gaze so warm and entrancing, and he'd feel himself sigh, his own eyes softening toward her.

He couldn't say it, couldn't let her know that anything had changed, and he had no reason to believe she felt the same, so he kept it to himself. Whether she knew or not, he had recognized his feelings long ago. For him, Chloe Sullivan was one important reason to keep doing what he was doing, if not to save the world for her to live in it, then to do it because it meant seeing her one more day, falling into those eyes one more time. And that was good enough for him, for now. Until he'd have to face up to what she did to him with a simple wink, he'd have to get by on the feelings she evoked from afar. One day though... Maybe.

 

 **V** \- " _The Special Two_ " by Missy Higgins  
**Rating** : T  
**Word Count** : 490

They were all clapping, congratulating her, and all he could do was try and catch his breath again and hope his heart would stop racing so painfully.

She was getting married; to a man who didn't deserve her.

Not that he was any better. He felt his girlfriend squeeze his hand and his stomach lurched once more. He feared he might just throw up across the floor in front of him, but he swallowed the bile back and shook his head, hoping his eyes might clear from the blurred vision they were stuck with now.

It shouldn't be like this; it was never meant to go in this direction. Not so long ago, it'd been him and her. Oliver Queen and Chloe Sullivan, hidden away in the dark bedroom with nothing but naked flesh and a passion that could ignite on-lookers with the intimacy, the sheer love that never seemed to have an end. But then life became muddled and he pushed her away; she was safer away from him. Nobody else knew about them and he reassured his broken heart that as long as she was safe, it didn't matter.

But now... Now she was getting married, to a man who could never possibly love her the way she deserved; love her the way he did.

Suddenly, she was in front of him and it seemed as if everyone expected him to say something, to congratulate her. The boss was meant to tell his Sidekick that he was happy for her. But he couldn't, not really. So instead he hugged her, ignored the way Dinah mentioned how sweet it was that they were so close.

"You can't marry him," he whispered against her hair.

"I can and will," she replied just as softly but her meaning firm.

He squeezed her. "You can't possibly love him like-"

"Like I love you? Of course not... But he's _willing_ to love me much longer, Ollie. He's willing to love me forever."

His eyes squeezed shut. "Just because I wasn't willing to let you die, doesn't mean I don't love you."

She shook her head and he could hear in her voice that she was getting upset. "Don't do this to me... Please?"

"I'll fight for you," he breathed, eyes falling closed.

"You should've fought a long time ago." She drew away, wiped at her tears and tried to smile up at him.

He licked his lips, swallowed the ball of emotion choking him. She stared up at him and she knew just by the way she bit her lip that she knew what he was promising with a simple look. " _I'll get you back_." She shivered, stared a second longer, nodded ever so slightly and then turned away. She'd accepted his challenge and he knew that eventually he'd get her. He just hoped it was before any marriage happened because if anybody was going to be her husband, it'd be him.


	74. Making Up For Time Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe flies down for a wedding only to find out it's a setup for something much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : Fake Engagement by moiraiordan

"What do you _mean_ it's fake?" Chloe lifted a brow, her arms crossing over her chest.

Lois squirmed side to side, rolling her eyes. "I mean... Smallville and I aren't really... engaged..."

"Right now," Clark put in hastily.

Lois glared.

Chloe huffed, staring at them like they were out of their minds. "So you had me fly _all_ the way down here because you're... _not_ getting married?"

"Heh... Surprise?"

"LOIS! Why?" Her eyes widened. "What excuse could you _possibly_ -"

"Oliver's back!" she interrupted loudly.

"H-Have for..." she trailed off, her mouth falling open in surprise. Taking a moment to let the information sink in, she closed her mouth, took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "He's back," she repeated, not a question but a statement.

Biting her lip, Lois nodded, eyes darting to Clark for a moment.

"He and the team returned a few days ago and..." Clark sighed. "He asked about you."

Chloe turned her gaze away, refusing to show any semblance of emotion over the fact. "How are the guys? Feels like ages since I've heard Bart call me Chloelicious." She quirked a smile.

"Chloe..." Lois stared at her rather pityingly.

She sighed. "Look... I don't know why you went through all this trouble. What Oliver and I did or did not have, it's... over. History. Let's file it under the past and leave it there, okay?"

"And if I wanted to find that file..." a familiar voice called out. "Maybe put it in the present drawer and... possibly the future..."

Her spine straightened to the point she was sure any sharp movements would intensely hurt. She stared ahead, unseeing for a moment. He left her, packed up his things and took the guys on the already fueled Queen jet to go off and save the world. And she'd been proud those first few weeks or months, but after awhile... She desperately missed him. She missed his smile and the way he always slung an arm around her, drawing her in close to his body. She missed how he laughed, low in his throat and how his eyes always seemed to be warm when he looked at her. She missed hearing him call her Sidekick and whispering secrets to her in the dead of night as they laid in his bed with nothing but the sheet to cover what modesty she had left. She missed waking up in his arms and going to sleep with her face buried in his chest. She missed his snoring and the unusual hours he got out of bed for work (both League and Queen Industries wise), and she missed sharing the shower with him, not knowing which toothbrush was his or hers and waking up to find Bart had eaten all the food so he'd have to take her out for breakfast. So when that voice penetrated her ears, she didn't know whether to cry with joy or walk away and cash in her round trip ticket to get back to the lonely apartment waiting for her a long way from Smallville, Metropolis and Star City.

"You'd need the key," she replied, her voice wavering slightly as she still refused to turn around. She wasn't sure when but Lois and Clark had slipped away from the room and situation, though she was sure Lois had Clark using his sensitive hearing so she could get all the "juicy stuff." She barely heard his footsteps but she felt her body betray her, arching into his fingers as they slid from the small of her back up her spine, atop her blouse, coming to a stop at the base of her neck, fingers curling in her blonde hair. His other arm slid around her waist and then she was drawn back, held tight against his body, swallowed whole by the scent she still breathed in through memories and already sinking into arms she wished she woke up wrapped around her still.

"Where would I get this key?" he whispered against her ear, his voice making her shiver and bite her lip. Her eyes fell closed and she held back a sob but not a sniffle. His arm tightened around her, the whiskers of his chin grazing her ear. "I missed you, Sidekick." So sincere, so real. How many times had she dreamt of waking up to hear those words?

She let out a shaky breath, her legs ready to give out on her at any given moment. "You can't make up for two years that easy, Queen." She wanted to be strong, to show him just how hard it had been, but God it felt so good to have him there.

She felt his hand tighten in her blouse and she knew, without hearing the words, that he'd do whatever it took to get her back, to keep her. He wasn't the giving up type; he wouldn't simply walk away just because she immediately refused to let him in or hid the key to their relationship from him. He kissed her neck; that spot that always made her knees finally give and he caught her as she fell, held her easily in his arms, cradling her against him as he murmured. "I've got a lifetime to make it up to you."

Her eyes opened at that promise, that confident declaration and she swallowed. Her arm lifted, wrapped around the back of his neck and held tight to the familiar blond hair there. "You better get started now."

His husky laughter was familiarly comforting and needed after all this time; and that was the last coherent thought she had before she was swept away in all things Oliver Queen. Later, she might just thank her cousin for her abnormal way of getting her to do things; perhaps she could make it up to her with the real thing, she decided. It was about time her favorite cousin and the most oblivious farmboy alive finally said their I Do's. Maybe a double wedding wasn't out of the question.


	75. Demonstrate Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark was covering his eyes, but Chloe had a feeling that even from behind them, he was glaring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : When? by pipersmum

Clark was covering his eyes, but Chloe had a feeling that even from behind them, he was glaring. "Since when?" he asked, voice deep and gravelly like it often became when he was angry.

She looked over to her companion who was currently pulling on a pair of pants. She was momentarily sidetracked by staring at his broad, tanned chest. He smirked at her, winking, and she had to shake her head to remind herself to focus. "Uh, a few... weeks?"

"Weeks," Clark sputtered, surprised. "Are you decent yet?"

She snorted. "You're standing on most of my clothes," she admitted rather amused. "But I'm wearing a very nice sheet in this spring's colors."

He dropped his hand, now showing her his glare. "Chloe..."

Her shoulders hunched. This was definitely _not_ how she wanted him to find out she was seeing someone... And not just anyone, but a very special someone.

"It's not a fling," a voice said from the right.

She turned to see the attractive chest she'd previously been staring at hidden away beneath a deep green shirt.

"Then what is it? Because last time I checked in, you two weren't anything but co-workers." Clark crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"Sometimes you remind me of my dad..." she commented. "Am I going to be grounded for sneaking around with the neighbor boy?"

 _He_ snorted. Clark didn't.

"This is serious!" His eyes widened. "What if... What if you two don't work out? Then what's going to happen?"

Chloe lifted a brow. "Business as usual."

"I'm hurt, Sidekick," her lover said easily. "You could just go back to everything as if we were nothing?"

She smiled up at him mischievously. "Just to be sure that doesn't happen, you should definitely stay on you A game and keep me plenty satisfied in this relationship."

He smirked. "I never slack in the satisfaction department," he assured.

Leaning back, she grinned. "I'm well aware."

Clark cleared his throat, lips pursed with disapproval.

Chloe sighed, rolling her eyes. "Listen Clark, I appreciate the big brother/protective dad/caring friend routine, I do. But... honestly, you're currently getting it on with my cousin... Let's not talk about messy, all right?" She lifted a brow at his blush and continued on. "My sex life is none of your business, but if you're really interested it's currently going fantastic!" She was proud to see him redden further and begin squirming. "Now, what I do or who I do or anything of the sort is off limits. I appreciate your worry and I'm sorry you sort of barged in on things as they were, but... I'm a grown woman and I really just need you to support my decisions."

He let out a long breath, staring at the carpet before finally nodded. "All right... But know that if anything goes wrong..."

"You can tell me I told you so all you want," she assured, nodding. "Now unless you want specific details I'd suggest-"

He was gone before she could finish her sentence, far away from the bedroom, the apartment, and anything involving her and her sex life. She grinned proudly and leaned into the warm body that sat down next to her and gathered up into him. "That was cruel. Poor Boyscout may never recover."

She looked up at him, chuckling. "Now that he's gone..." She reached for his t-shirt and drew it up, nails grazing along his back as she kissed his neck. "I think we were in the middle of something." She leaned him back on the bed before straddling him. "Thought you were a man who never slacked in the satisfaction department, Mr. Queen."

He smirked up at her easily before flipping them over so she was sprawled beneath him. "I'll have to give you a demonstration or two to prove it, I think," he said against her lips as he kissed her, his fingers trailing down her front, slow and teasing.

She nodded, her breath coming out in stutters as his fingers became bolder and her thighs fell further apart, feeling the denim of his jeans rubbing against her.

While she wasn't happy with how Clark had found out, she was glad it was no longer a secret. Now she had Oliver all to herself, to do with as she liked, without fear of being found out by those she cared about. And she planned to use that to her advantage.

"Demonstrate away," she murmured, staring up into his dark eyes.


	76. They Got It All

**2008**

"My security must be uncommonly low lately," a deep voice called out.

Chloe turned around abruptly, eyes widening and a grin forming on her lips. "Ollie!" she greeted.

His mouth lifted with a returned smile. "Hey Sidekick."

She hurried across the floor to throw her arms around him in a warn hug. "I wasn't expecting you for... Actually, I wasn't expecting you at all," she admitted, drawing back, her hands finding his biceps as she stared up at him in slight wonder for a moment. "Sorry about the sudden appearance in your apartment, but my computers at ISIS aren't always as safe as I think they are. I had a bout of suspicion so I thought I'd come over here just to be safe."

"No worries," he assured, his hands holding her hips loosely. "I assume they've been up to your standards?" He lifted a playful brow.

"Of course!" She turned around, drawing away and walking back to his computer, a giddy sway to her hips. "If I could marry your system I would, but for now I'll just have to settle for worshipping it." There was a sudden ding in the background and his brow furrowed. "Oh! Are you hungry? I threw in lasagna. If you don't get to it soon, Bart'll show up and then you'll never even get a taste." She walked off to the kitchen and he followed the delicious scent, stopping in the doorway as she placed the large dish of homemade pasta on top of the stove.

"You've really made yourself at home," he commented, not annoyed just observant.

She quirked a smile and lifted a shoulder. "I spend a lot of time here on your system. I brought my own groceries though. Bart ate all of yours." She sliced up the lasagna and brought down two plates, waving one in his direction with a tempting grin. He nodded and she dished him out a hefty piece before grabbing him a fork and directing him to the kitchen table. She was back with a tall glass of milk before he could even think to ask for it. She joined him at the table and sat back comfortably. "So..." She lifted a questioning brow. "Tell me about your latest mission."

He grinned. "Well..."

**2009**

"We shouldn't be doing this," she panted, her head falling back as his face buried in her neck, suckling and nipping at her skin in the most enticing way. She groaned; there was no way she was going to talk herself out of this if he didn't stop doing that. She felt his fingers at the buttons of her blouse; they were undone and the flimsy fabric was parted within seconds before she felt him tugging it down her shoulders. Instead of putting a stop to it, she shrugged it away and lifted her back so he could pull it out and toss it to the floor.

His mouth slid away from her neck and began a heated trail down her chest, nuzzling the curves of her breasts as his fingers pulled the straps of her bra down her arms. "Really shouldn't," he agreed, lightly nipping her breast before kissing across it and sliding the cup of her bra away to reveal it to his eyes and mouth.

She arched into him, chewing her lip and wiggling beneath his heavy form. God, he smelled so good. It was distracting and she couldn't quite get the haze of her mind to dissipate enough for common sense to rule. When her bra was tossed away and his large, calloused hands cupped her breasts, she decided maybe, just this once, sense could take a back seat. She wrapped her legs around him and drew him close so he was pressed hard between the juncture of her thighs. He moaned, the sound reverberating through her chest pleasantly.

She reached out, drew his t-shirt up and threw it away, letting out a whimper as his mouth detached for a fraction of a second before finding her ignored breast. Her nails ran down his chest, digging in as he drew his tongue across her nipple before nibbling it. Gripping his hair, she kneaded his neck.

They should stop, really. They were friends and partners and co-workers and they weren't even in a relationship, but... He felt so good and she hadn't been touched like this, so intensely in, well, ever. Jimmy was the last man she'd been with and he hadn't touched her or kissed her or felt quite like Oliver did. She loved him, sure, but Jimmy felt boyish now, compared to the knowing and strong grip of Oliver. He didn't fumble or slip or chuckle nervously; he touched her body like it was something to be caressed and awed at. He kissed her curves and every inch of her he could reach; he stroked her heat and kissed her folds with the lips and fingers of a man who cherished her. And when they finally joined, his length buried so deep inside of her it felt as if they'd been fused as one, she knew true pleasure. She came on spot, only to have it drawn out further as he slid in and out, filling her and stroking her over and over until she was crying and whimpering and pleading for it all to end or continue; she was never sure which. She felt hysterical, her mind lost in the haze of ecstasy.

When it all ended, his cheek laid against her breast as they both panted raggedly. He was laid out between her thighs still, his arms wrapped around her, so strong. Her hair was damp, stuck to her skin; she noticed his was the same as she ran her fingers through the blond strands absently. Tonight had been a culmination of a year of dancing around each other; their attraction so obvious. Banter and laughter and an understanding of each other that was hard to find. But neither of them wanted to admit it aloud and neither wanted to talk about relationships; not when everything was so up and down with work and the League and their friends.

Still... If it never happened again, the last two hours were without a doubt the most incredible time of her life.

He turned his head and kissed the valley between her breasts tenderly. Something told her this wouldn't be the only time it happened, but she wasn't willing to admit anything more than that.

**2010**

"I would've been fine with Burger King," she told him, mouth quirked with a grin.

He chuckled. "I prefer Dairy Queen." He shrugged, looking around the fast food restaurant with slight hesitance. What possibly encouraged him to take her out on a date here, he had no idea.

"Who knew you were so cheap?" she teased. "No wonder you're a billionaire."

"Hey," He lifted a brow, "I'll have you know most of my other dates were brought to high priced, top of the line, five star restaurants where the menus were in other languages."

She stared at him, head tipped to the side. "Should I be offended or flattered?"

He grinned. "Definitely flattered."

She nodded slowly. "All right... But I want a blizzard out of this deal."

He reached for her hand, tangling their fingers. "I'll buy you your own blizzard machine if you agree that this... _thing_ of ours can be defined as an actual relationship."

She pursed her lips, eyes thinned in thought. "So we're talking dates, hand holding, public displays of affection?" She lifted a brow as he nodded. "Telling our friends, the media, our... enemies?"

He cleared his throat. "Well I won't personally call up Lex, but... I'm sure he'll find out."

She licked her lips thoughtfully. "Since this is our first _technical_ date, I should probably withhold all sex for at least a month or so... To make absolutely sure you respect me."

His brows lifted. "You sure you can handle a whole month, Sidekick?"

She laughed, mouth dropping open. "Are you accusing _me_ of being the insatiable one?"

"Hey, if the shoe fits..." He smirked.

She stiffened her shoulders with stubborn resolve. “You willing to test your theory?"

He turned his head side to side. "Let's not be hasty..." He grinned, eyes searing her heatedly. "I'm already starting to miss your heat."

She quirked a brow. "Do you want a cuddle, Queen, or are you thinking something a little _deeper_?"

He trailed his thumb across her thumb. "I don't know if we'll have time tonight. I'm currently in the market for a blizzard machine and who knows how long that might take to track down."

Laughing, Chloe climbed out of her seat and circled the table to slide comfortably into his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck. "Forget the machine, I'll take you to go," she murmured before kissing him to seal the deal.

**2011**

She paced to and fro, her hands wringing between her. "How long has it been?"

"Five seconds since the last time you asked," he replied, going through his paperwork still.

"How can you be so _calm_?" she asked, frustrated.

He looked up, smiling. "Whatever happens we're going to be fine, Sidekick."

She sighed, shoulders falling. "But what if I'm... I mean that's a huge responsibility, Ollie." She shook her head, crossing the room from where she'd been pacing to sit next to him, one of her legs curled beneath her. "Massive, gigantic, enormously important responsibility."

He grinned with amusement. "Kind of like saving the world."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, except it involves nine months of swollen feet, aches and pains, constant peeing, and an emotional roller coaster I'd rather not ride!" She sighed. "Not to mention morning sickness," she grumbled, pouting. "And hours of intense labor that will never leave my... stuff the same."

He laughed. "Stuff?" He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her up into his side. "I'm sure I'll still love your _stuff_ after you have this so-far non-existent baby."

"It _could_ be existent," she said, letting her head fall to his shoulder. "Could be inside there right now. With a tiny spine and fingernails and...” She glanced up at him. “Your ears."

"Why my ears?"

"I don't know, I just like them."

His mouth twitched with adoring amusement as he rubbed her shoulder. "If you're pregnant, then we'll be having an incredible baby that we'll both love immensely. And if you're not... well, trying again is always fun."

"Ollie!" she exclaimed, her laughter penetrating her voice.

He kissed her temple. "I know we weren't expecting a baby and we haven't exactly been... taking all the precautions not to, but... If it happens, then... there's going be a very spoiled, very happy, very curious and highly dangerous child born to us. And if you're not... Then you're not." He shrugged. "I'm fine either way."

Closing her eyes, she sighed, relaxing into his embrace. He held her in his arms, his scent filling her senses and lulling her into comfort.

"Chlo?"

"Yeah?" she murmured tiredly.

"It's time."

She nodded, biting her lip as she slowly drew away from him and walked to the bathroom hesitantly. When she came back, her emotions were mixed.

"False alarm."

He nodded and she felt tears well in her eyes. When he opened his arms, she buried herself there once more. Maybe they weren't ready just yet, but that moment let her know that when she did have children, she wanted them to be his.

**2012**

"What if she says no?" he wondered, pacing back and forth, staring at the floor blankly.

"She won't say no," Victor assured from the armchair.

"Yeah, Boss, Chloelicious will be _muy_ excited!"

"Gotta agree with them, I don't think she'll say no," AC offered.

"But she might... We've only been dating two years!"

The League boys looked at each other.

"Yeah, but you guys were _together_ at least a year before that," AC reminded. "The walls aren't soundproof, dude."

Ollie frowned at them, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah and you two were hot for each other since like, ever."

"I dated her cousin!" he reminded loudly.

"I think they're both over that," Victor said, smiling slightly with amusement.

"Our first date was at Dairy Queen... That's not the kind of story you tell your kids!" He shook his head, eyes wide.

"I don't think you want to tell them you were bangin' her long before that either," Bart said through a mouthful of burrito. He swallowed before it was fully chewed. "So you guys have really been together like four years... Totally acceptable, right?"

"So you think she's expecting it?" He stopped, staring at them. "So if I don't ask she might leave me?"

"What? We didn't say that." Victor shook his head. "You're getting worked up over nothing."

He threw his arms up, glaring. "This isn't nothing!"

"All right, but really, Oliver... Do you think Chloe's going to say no?"

"Say no to what?" came the soft feminine voice of who they'd been talking about.

Oliver's eyes shot over to Chloe as she walked further into the room. She deposited her purse on a chair and tugged off her coat and scarf before crossing to give him a kiss hello. "What's going on?" she asked him, staring up into his eyes.

He let out a slow breath, relaxing as he kept his eyes on hers for a long moment. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her in close. "I have something really important to ask you," he murmured, his forehead pressed to hers.

Taking the hint, the guys left the apartment, smirking at each other knowingly.

"Am I going to like this really important question?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah..." He smiled. "Yeah I think you are."

She kissed him lightly. "Ask away."

**2013**

He sat on the end of the Hotel bed, his tuxedo jacket long shed, the top few buttons of his shirt undone and his cufflinks put away. He was leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees.

"I think everything went really well," she called out from the bathroom.

"I still think Bart should've had his own private buffet so the guests didn't have to worry about food."

She laughed lightly. "He was good about it. He only took a few food runs."

"That tux was a rental... I don't think they'll take it back after he stained it with salsa _and_ caviar."

"Technically, _AC_ threw the caviar at him in protest, so that wasn't really Bart's fault."

Oliver rolled his eyes, unconvinced. "He's the fastest man on Earth... He couldn't dodge it?"

Her ringing laughter could be heard even louder as the bathroom door opened and she stepped out. "Personally, I think he wanted to start a food fight."

"Thank God he didn't or I'd..." He looked up, his breath catching. She was dressed in a tiny satin and lace green negligee that left little to the imagination. He swallowed tightly, eyes wide and jaw hanging loose.

She smirked, walking toward him with a sway to her hips and her fingers playing with the hem of her nightie to tease him. As she stepped in front of him, she lifted one knee and placed it next to him on the bed before she leaned him back and climbed up to straddle him. "Like what you see, Mr. Queen?"

He grinned, reaching up to take hold of her hips, dragging her sexy attire up higher. "Very much, Mrs. Queen."

Her smile softened. "I can't believe we got married."

He tucked her hair behind her ear. "I can't believe Lois caught the bouquet."

She laughed, her head falling back. "Did you see the look on Clark's face?"

Chuckling, he ran his fingers down her neck and along her arm, smirking as she shivered. "Happy?"

She leaned forward, nuzzling her nose with his. "The happiest." She caught his mouth, kissing him deeply to prove it.

**2015**

"What if it's a mutant?" Bart wondered out loud.

Everybody turned to look at him in appalled shock.

"What? I read it somewhere! It's not _totally_ impossible!" He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Shut up, short-stuff. My niece is not a mutant!" Lois declared, glaring.

"Could be your nephew," Clark corrected.

"Technically, since she and Chloe are cousins, he or she would be her second-cousin," Victor reminded. Getting a glare, he cleared his throat. "Not that I haven't referred to myself as an uncle, too."

"I'm gonna be his favorite uncle," Bart exclaimed.

"Not when he finds out you thought he was a mutant," AC told him, grinning.

"I thought he _might_ be a mutant, there's a difference, dude."

"I'm so telling Ollie," Lois said, shaking her head. "And Chloe's going to give you the silent treatment for that, so HAH!"

"Aw come on, _chaquita_ ," Bart whined, staring at her with wide eyes.

She sighed, turning her head forward once more. "Just wait until she gets her hormonal hands on _you_!"

" _Man_..."

The door opened down the hall and Oliver suddenly appeared, a small bundle in his arms and a broad smile on his face as he stared down proudly. He stopped in front of the large group of friends, now all standing expectantly. "This is Ava Sophia Queen..." he introduced, his voice quiet with adoring awe.

They crowded around, staring down at the beautiful, tiny baby as it squirmed in its pink blanket. With red skin and a faint tuft of dark hair on its head, it didn't yet look anything like its parents, but soon. Tiny hands reached out, trying to touch the people staring down at her and brushing against her father's chin. Her nose was scrunched up and her mouth was open as she made tiny gurgles here or there.

"Dude, she's totally not a mutant," Bart said, grinning down at her as he reached out to tickle her cheek with his forefinger.

"What?" Oliver asked, staring at the younger man with a lifted brow.

"Uh..." He laughed awkwardly before frowning at Lois' smug expression and then quickly returned his attention to Ava. "How's Chloelicious?"

"She's tired and she told me I had a two minute time limit to have the baby out of her sight. So soak her in quick, I have to get back in there."

Bart made a whipping noise, grinning.

Oliver could obviously care less, too busy admiring his newborn daughter. He'd bring up the mutant comment later, for right now, he was too happy to think much of it.

**2020**

"Un-be-lievable," Chloe muttered, shaking her head. "What time is it?"

The man guarding her sent her an annoyed look. "Six forty-five."

She sighed. "I'm supposed to be eating dinner right now." She shook her head. "It's lasagna night. Do you have any idea how much my husband and son love lasagna night?" She tapped her foot with irritation. "And if my daughter misses her Sparkie's meeting tonight..." Her jaw clenched. "You just wait until I get out of this."

He scoffed, unmoved by her declaration.

There was a scuffle outside of the door and while the guard became distracted, slowly moving toward it with his gun at the ready, Chloe sat back smugly. Any minute now... The door burst open and before the big burly man who'd been watching her could get a shot off he was knocked out and sprawled across the floor.

Dressed in green leather and wearing an exasperated smile, Oliver stepped forward and easily cut her out of her binds.

"Took you long enough," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "What tipped you off that I'd been kidnapped?"

He looked over at her with a shrug. "Got home early and I couldn't smell your lasagna."

Laughing, she leaned up and kissed him. "Who's watching the kids?"

"Bart."

She sighed, shoulders slumping. "We better get home."

Wrapping an arm around her, they left the building, avoiding the many henchmen laid out unconscious. "Any idea if this was because you're a Queen or because of your latest expose?"

She shrugged. "A little of both?" she offered.

With an amused chuckle, he shook his head. "I love you, Sidekick."

"And my lasagna."

He nodded. "That too. Think there's still time?"

"Of course." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Now if you'd shown up any later..."

"Hey, I had to pick Ava up from Lois, Cayden and Kacey had daycare and I had Bart hounding me about lasagna night. It's been a very long afternoon! Add on top of it all that my wife has mysteriously been kidnapped and..." He squeezed her, sighing heavily.

She rubbed his side through his Green Arrow gear. "Let's just go home and I'm sure a nice dinner will make it all better."

He kissed her temple. "You know what else would make it better?"

"There's a reason we already have three children, Ollie," she said, smiling.

"You never complain while we're making them," he teased.

She laughed. "Watch it, Arrow, or I'm giving your dinner to Bart."

He shut up.

**2025**

"This is all your fault!"

Sighing, Oliver rolled his eyes. "Isn't it always?"

"Yes." She nodded, pacing back and forth with three positive sticks in her hands. "If you would just... keep your hands to yourself and stop being so... freaking charming!" she exclaimed.

He grinned, standing up from the edge of the bed.

She pointed at him. "Don't! Come any closer!" Her eyes were wide with warning.

"You're already pregnant, Sidekick... What more can I do?" He caught her in his arms before she could run away to prove her point. The sticks fell to the floor forgotten as she wrapped her arms around him, her feet hovering a few inches off the ground. She pressed her forehead to his and stared into his warm brown eyes, trying to stop her lips from curving in a smile. She played with the short blond hairs at the back of his neck, kneading him lightly. "We may live in a manor, but eventually we'll run out of rooms for these children," she joked.

He kissed her lingeringly. "So we'll buy a second house."

"Oliver," she groaned, turning her eyes upwards.

Laughing he turned them around and laid her down on the bed, covering her with himself. "I can't help it if you're gorgeous... And sexy..." He unbuttoned her blouse slowly, pressing a kiss to her revealed body with each compliment. "Curvy... Soft... Warm... Tight..." He opened her shirt entirely and smiled. "And completely insatiable." She laughed and he undid her skirt, tugging it off expertly before lifting her up and bringing her higher on the bed, shedding her blouse on the way. He slid up between her thighs and found one of her hands, tangling their fingers. His free hand fell across her abdomen. "Bet it's a boy."

She kissed him and felt her stomach tighten as he moaned deeply, his tongue reaching for hers as his hand slid from her stomach up to her breast.

Maybe she really was the insatiable one... But she was 99.9 percent sure they were equally hot for each other.

**2030**

"Ava, _please_ , go change!" Oliver said exasperated.

"Daaad!" his eldest daughter whined. "It's just a skirt."

"No, it's a _short_ skirt." His brows rose. "So unless you want me to send you to an all-girls private school, you're going to change." He crossed his arms for emphasis.

With a stomp of her foot, she turned around and left toward the stairs.

"Cayden, stop bugging your sister," his wife ordered from behind him.

"I _wasn't_ ," he disagreed.

"Pouring salt on her cereal isn't what I'd call getting along."

"Man... You've got eyes in the back of your head, it's so not fair," he complained.

"You put salt on my cereal?" Kacey asked before laughing. "I put salt on _yours_!"

"MOM!" Cayden exclaimed.

"Just desserts, sweetheart. You two are going to be late if you don't get your shoes and backpacks on already."

Oliver felt a tug at his shirt and looked down to see his four year old son staring up at him with jam all over his hands and mouth. "Can I go to work with you?" he wondered hopefully.

With a sigh, Oliver bent down and hauled him up into his arms. "I thought you liked pre-school, bud?"

"I don't want to nap... I like playing with the blocks when all the others are sleeping, but Miss J says I'm not allowed. She thinks I'll be cranky, but I told her... I said my momma doesn't make me nap and I don't get cranky. I'm a big boy and I don't _need_ naps." He shook his head. "So I tried to prove it. I made three of the others stay up with me and only one of ‘em caught real cranky, see? So I said she didn't know if I'd be like that one or the other two."

Oliver blinked. "You're too much like your mom."

Josh grinned. "So I'm right?"

He laughed. "Probably, but I can't take you to work, so why don't you just lay down like Miss J suggested. You don't have to sleep if you're not tired, but lay down like all the other kids so they don't get jealous."

He sighed, nodding. "Okay." He looked away and then back. "Can I bring cookies to eat while I pretend sleep?"

Oliver shook his head, bringing him to the kitchen sink to clean up his hands and mouth. "How'd you get this all over you?"

"The peanut butter didn't like the jelly," he replied, staring up at him as if it made sense.

"Right... I have the same problem every morning too."

Chloe snorted. "He was drawing pictures on his toast with his fingers."

" _That_ I don't do," Oliver said, ruffling Josh's hair as he showed off his clean hands.

When there was a scoff from behind, Oliver turned to see his daughter do an annoyed spin to show she was wearing jeans and no mini-skirt. "Are we good now? Can I go?" she asked, lifting a brow.

"I want a hug," Chloe told her, arms wide.

"Mo-ooom..."

"Yeah, yeah, you're too old and cool and all that crap, now hug me Ava or I'll show up at your school and embarrass you." She grinned widely as her eldest daughter dragged her feet across the room to hug her.

Before she could escape, Oliver leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Be good and ace that Trig test," he told her.

"With my eyes closed," she boasted, smirking. "Later squirt," she said to Josh who beamed up at her.

"Bye Avie!" He waved to her as she left the kitchen and walked off toward the front door.

It was only quiet for half a second.

"No, that's _my_ backpack!"

"Ugh, no it's _not_ Cayden! If it was yours, why would _my_ pen bag be in it?"

"Because you just _put_ it there!"

"I did _not_! I packed my stuff last night!"

"With _me!_ Which means that it's probably mine!"

"No! It's not! I-"

"Cayden, Kacey! Stop arguing. The only difference in your backpacks is your pen holder. So just give Kacey her stuff and go catch the bus before I have to drive you in! I have work today and I can't afford to-"

"Bye mom, bye dad," they called out simultaneously, interrupting her.

Chloe sighed, rolling her eyes.

"S'okay, momma, I don't even _'member_ where I put _my_ felts," Josh tried to comfort her.

Chloe turned, kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Josh. Now go find your socks. I have to drop you off at daycare."

Sighing, he dragged his feet as he looked back at his parents with a pout, hoping they'd give in and take him to their work.

Falling back against her husband's chest, Chloe sighed, wrapping her arms around his waist loosely. "If you get me pregnant again, I'll never let you touch me."

He laughed, rubbing her back. "As if you could resist..."

"Try me, Queen," she warned. "Just try me."

Grinning, he kissed her hair.

**2041**

"This is ridiculous," Josh muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't even know why you guys are here."

"Have you _read_ the paper?" Kacey asked frowning.

"The Inquisitor is _barely_ a paper," Ava scoffed, but she still looked worried.

"We just think-" Kacey began

"That we should make sure-"

"That everything is entirely-"

"And perfectly-"

"Fine," Kacey and Cayden said simultaneously.

"It _is_ ," Josh assured, staring at them with annoyance.

"Well, we'd just like to see-"

"For ourselves."

"Stop doing the weird twin-finishing-sentences thing," Ava sighed, exasperated.

Josh frowned, glaring. "Well, couldn't you guys have called?"

"Why are you fighting with us about this?" Kacey demanded. "They really are, aren't they?" She teared up. "I can't believe this! They've been married-"

"Twenty-eight years," Cayden exclaimed, stricken. "They love each other! Too much, even. We were always walking in on really gross PDA that at any other moment, I'd probably really hate, but right now I almost miss! They can't be getting a divorce, they're... They're..."

"Mom and dad!" Kacey said, sniffling.

"You guys, you're overreacting," Ava told them, rubbing their shoulders. "Like Josh said, the only proof we have is the garbage The Inquisitor writes."

"Yeah and Josh doesn't want us here which means something-"

"Is _definitely_ going on!" Cayden said, nodding.

With a sigh, Ava lifted a brow at her brother. "Well?"

"Fine, but be prepared," he muttered, opening the front door and walking inside.

Music could be heard coming from the living room and carefully, the four children followed it, only to stop, wide-eyed at the sight before them.

"Are they..."

"Dancing?!"

Josh sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Every single Wednesday for the last three months." He shook his head. "I can't have friends over anymore. Nobody wants to watch old people dance sexily..." He shuddered, scrunching his nose up.

"Josh, mom and dad aren't _that_ old," Ava said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

"Well they are to me." He looked over at dad as he dipped his mom and then lifted her back up, grinning at her and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. "Gross."

Laughing, Ava shook her head before turning to her twin brother and sister. "See?"

"They're just as in love as ever," Kacey sighed, smiling.

"And still doing that weird PDA thing... Ugh, ew." Still, Cayden was half-smiling too.

"Kids?" their mother's voice called out. "I didn't know you guys were coming in." She hurried across the floor and gathered them all in a hug. "You three are supposed to be in college, enjoying the lack of supervision and pretending you're actually doing your laundry when I call."

They laughed, hugging her back. "We missed you," Ava said.

"You saw the paper," Oliver caught on, lifting a brow. "You really think your mom and I would get a divorce?"

Cayden shrugged. "Now that I think about it, it was kind of stupid... I mean, as much as you two get it on, there's gotta be some love there."

Chloe clicked her tongue. "You and your uncle Bart should spend less time together," she teased, rolling her eyes. "Now..." She grinned, drawing Josh up against her side, despite how he pouted over all the fawning. "I have leftover lasagna, who's hungry?"

"ME!" everybody cried.

**2063**

"You're so old," Chloe said, smiling up at him.

"You're not much younger," Oliver replied, grinning.

"I can't believe they threw a party," she scrunched up her nose. "It's like they're celebrating the fact that we can still put up with each other."

He snorted. "Keep pretending you don't still love me, Sidekick. Everybody here knows you're just as head over heels for me as you were fifty years ago."

"Fifty four," she corrected. "Just because it took you four years to propose doesn't mean I didn't love you then too."

He leaned over, kissing her cheek adoringly. "I'm surprised we made it this far. I was sure we'd be blown up or shot or figured out by now."

"We're just that good," she claimed, nodding. "You're lucky you have such an observant and hardworking Watchtower behind you."

"Incredibly lucky," he agreed, nodding at the people that passed them by, congratulating them on their fiftieth anniversary. "How long before we can sneak out without look obvious?"

"Where were you thinking of going, old man?" she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Dairy Queen," he murmured against her hair. "I think I owe you a blizzard."

She grinned, taking his hand in hers and holding it tightly. "You don't owe me anything, Ollie. You gave me everything I could ever want."

"I think you're getting soft in your old age, Chlo."

She slapped his chest playfully. "Still younger than you," she said, staring up at him.

"You think my grey hair is hot, admit it."

Chuckling, she kissed him. She totally did.

**2069**

"I think we lost the bet," she murmured quietly in the darkness of their room.

He nodded. "I put my money on a car bomb. You?"

"Definitely not old age." She rolled over, cuddling up to his chest, her cotton pajamas feeling rough against her skin. "We made it pretty far though, huh?"

"For a couple of heroes like us? It's a new record, Sidekick." He hugged her close, face buried in her hair. "This reminds me of a movie..."

"Yeah, except I remember every big and little thing that ever happened between us." She ran her fingers through his silver hair lingeringly. "I love you," she told him softly.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her wrinkled lips. "I love you, too."

Burying her face against his green pajama clad front, she sighed. "Did you ever think... sixty one years ago when you came home to me in your apartment that it would lead to this?"

He let out a long breath. "Right after I tasted that lasagna, I _hoped_."

She chuckled before letting out a sigh. "So this is how the infamous Green Arrow and his sidekick, Watchtower go..."

"You were always more than a sidekick, you know that," he murmured affectionately.

"Of course, I was the brains of the whole thing," she teased, smiling. "I hope the heroes of the future learned a thing or two."

"About?" he mumbled, eyes falling closed.

"Love, life and heroism." She nodded slightly, snuggling closer. "Just because we lived the way we did, didn't mean we couldn't have it all..." She kissed his chest. "We got it all and more, Ollie."

"Yes, we did." He inhaled the familiar scent of her hair. "It's late and we're old... Let's go to sleep, Chlo."

"Mmm," she agreed, letting her eyes fall closed in the eternal sleep, wrapped forever in the arms of the heroic man who gave her a lifetime of happiness, joy and everlasting love.


	77. Denying Inevitabilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was as if it was coming in that one split second where he could move left or right, one was the right way, the other meant incredible agony. This was the decision of a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : Denial by shopgal08

_"I'm standing here... I'm waiting... So you can either admit it and accept that I love you too or you can walk away from me and we end it... Over and done before it ever started..."_

_He stared at her, her eyes filled with tears but her chin unwavering; stiff and certain, just like the rest of her. She wouldn't back down, wouldn't take back the words as much as she dearly wanted to. And this was his fault, really. They'd been dancing around each other, so close but so far, for years. He had excuse after excuse to why they shouldn't; why it was best that they stayed apart and he stopped dating altogether. But this was_ her _and she wasn't willing to accept those reasons. So it all came down to this ultimatum._

 _"What are you_ waiting _for?" she asked, staring at him with huge, vibrant green eyes. "You're Oliver Queen, you're Green Arrow, you know the world end to end, you know the cruelty and the good of it all. So what is_ this _compared to all of that? What am_ I _compared to that, Ollie? So say no, tell me that it's for the best and walk away... Walk away from it all and pretend that you'll get over it, that it won't hurt! That a lifetime of solitude is better. Go ahead!" she exclaimed, smiling sadly as she shook her head and threw her arms up. "The words are on the tip of your tongue and you know it. You'll play the noble hero again and you'll comfort yourself with the idea that I'm crying now, but I'll thank you later. But I won't..." She laughed derisively. "No knight in shining armor is going to show up on his white steed and promise a lifetime of perfection and safety. Because there's no such thing!" She stared at him now, her breathing heavy. "You keep telling yourself that away from you I'm safer, but am I? Really? Because I've been out there and trust me, death isn't avoiding me."_

 _He swallowed tightly, his jaw clenched. She was right, as usual. And he wanted to pretend she wasn't; he wanted to believe all those lies she'd brought to notice and go on in his fantasy where she accepted that he was looking out for her, went out into the world and found somebody better, safer, and they lived happily ever after. It only mildly soothed his heart, because he knew, had for so long, that he wasn't going to just move on from her. This was the woman who never backed down, never treated him like the boss so much as a friend, always with a quirky remark and a warm smile. He could come home from a horrible night of patrolling, ready to quit entirely and take up golf, become the narcissistic billionaire so many expected of him. And then he'd see her there, asleep on his couch, her book open in her lap and he'd remember why he did it all in the first place. For people like her to have some sort of comfort in their lives; so they could go out and not worry about what's around the next corner. Because they deserved that,_ she _deserved that._

_"I can't do this forever and I won't wait in the background for you to finally realize that I've been standing here, loving you all this time and waiting for you to finally do something about it." She shook her head, her eyes turning upward to relieve the stinging. "So either say goodbye or..."_

_A second passed and then five, ten, thirty..._

_She sighed, nodding before she turned around, grabbed her laptop bag and started toward the elevator._

_He felt a rush in his chest, like his heart was about to explode. The same feeling he always got right before something bad truly happened; like when a knife slid through his ribs or the bullet pierced his chest. It was as if it was coming in that one split second where he could move left or right, one was the right way, the other meant incredible agony. In those two instances, he went the wrong direction, right into the blade and the bullet. And now here he stood, stuck in one of those moments and he had a choice to make. Watch her leave and know that he'd forever regret it, denying for the rest of his life that there was anything there, or say something and let the pieces fall where they were meant to._

_"I love you," he blurted out, loud and clear._

_She stopped, still staring forward not daring to turn around._

_"I've loved you for years and I don't want you to leave. I don't want to wake up one morning twenty years from now and know that I let the most incredible woman I'd ever met walk away from me." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I love you, Sidekick," he said, softer now, staring at her with furrowed brows and a heart that wouldn't calm itself._

_She turned around, her lips curling at the corners. "I love you, too."_

Oliver smiled at the memory, staring out at the many people around him talking and laughing and having a good time. He felt a hand on his arm and he turned to see his wife grinning up at him, still dressed in lace and satin, her new wedding band sitting perfectly on her finger, glinting in the light. "Dance with me," she murmured, not really a question.

He half-smirked, standing up and taking her hand, leading her out to the dance floor where various other couples were enjoying a song. He wrapped an arm around her waist, drew her up so close there was hardly enough space for either of them to move. Her head rested against his shoulder, one of her hands on his bicep, the other in his palm as he led them around in small circles. He could feel her lightly kissing his neck, nuzzling it with her nose every once in a while. He let his eyes fall to half-mass, barely recognized the people around them, lost in his own world.

A year ago, he'd been struggling with the fact that he might lose her forever and now, here he stood, holding her in his arms for all the world to see and knowing that whatever happened, he had her forever. Either of them could very well die tomorrow; it wasn't completely unfathomable, but he'd still have her as his wife, still know that he turned in the right direction, he said the right words and he accepted his fate. He could've taken the safe road and known that while he'd always miss her, she _might_ be safer without him, but he'd instead chosen to protect her himself.

He kissed her hair before trailing down, brushing her ear with his lips and burying his face against her shoulder, his mouth whispering over her neck. "What do you think, Chlo?"

She turned her head so that her eyes caught his. "I think..." She grinned. "Finally."

He chuckled. "Right as usual."

She smirked, letting her head fall back to stare up at him smugly. "Too bad it took so long for you to realize that."

He pressed his forehead against hers. "I know now."

She licked her lips. "And don't you forget it," she murmured.

He wouldn't. All his denial did was slow him from the inevitable. Dipping his wife back, grinning at her laugh, he drew her back up into his arms and couldn't he happier that she was as stubborn as she was, otherwise he might've lived a lifetime without her. And how empty that would've been.


	78. These Forevers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the day of her wedding, Chloe Sullivan woke up and realized something startling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : Strangers by pipersmum

On the day of her wedding, Chloe Sullivan woke up and realized something startling. The man she was going to marry, the man lying asleep next to her, the man she was going to vow to be together with and love for the rest of her life... felt like a complete stranger to her. He didn't know her the way he should and she didn't know him the way she ought to... If they were walking past each other on the street with blinking signs screaming every little and big detail about each other, they wouldn't know each other, they'd be complete strangers, they'd keep walking and never look back. Because Jimmy Olson wanted to marry a Chloe Sullivan that wasn't who was lying next to him. He didn't understand her like a husband was meant to.

Which is why while he slept peacefully, she wrote him a note, an explanation, and then she left. She left their apartment, she left him, and she left any ideas of marrying him behind her.

She was sorry, but not enough to go through with marrying him.

Five years later, she'd wake up next to a different man on the day of her wedding. She wouldn't write any notes, she wouldn't pack any bags and she wouldn't for a second consider that they might be strangers or that she couldn't go through with a lifetime of him. She would roll over in the green sheets that clung to her naked body and wrap her arm around his waist. He would sigh, his eyes still closed and his mouth quirking with a smile. "What happened to no seeing the bride before the wedding?" he would murmur tiredly.

She'd slide her leg over his waist and climb on top of him. "We'll have to call off the wedding, I guess," she whispered huskily.

His eyes opened and with the ease of a trained hero, he turned them over, smirking at her shriek as she lay sprawled beneath his broad form. "Not a chance, Sidekick. You're marrying me today." He leaned down, pressed a kiss against the valley of her breasts and nuzzled her sweetly with his nose. As he gripped one of her thighs and rocked his hips against hers, his length brushing against her slit, she moaned. "Any objections?"

She shook her head back and forth and gripped his shoulders, drawing him in. "I love you, Oliver Queen," she said, staring up into his brown eyes.

He kissed her lightly and took her hand, their fingers twining, her engagement ring winking in the early morning sunlight. "Enough to say forever?" He didn't look worried; they both knew her answer.

She tipped her chin and felt the faint scratch of whiskers against her lips. He'd need to shave before the wedding, but not before they had a little fun first. "Forever," she breathed, capturing his lips.

She meant it.


	79. Stepping Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy wasn't blind or stupid and while it took a lot of convincing, he finally gave her up to the better man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #007 - Hardest Truth

Contrary to popular belief, Jimmy Olsen really did love Chloe. It didn't always show in his actions and he was sorry for that, but in the end, he'd found something in her that he never imagined he'd find. And he believed that behind all of the drama that transpired during their relationship, she really did love him too. He'd always be the quirky and charismatic photographer that somehow won her heart and came so close to possessing it for a lifetime, but he knew better than to make a mistake that would only hurt the both of them in the long run. Some part of him occasionally regretted calling off the wedding, while a much larger part knew it was for the best. Seeing her later, he knew that. It didn't make it hurt any less.

He wasn't stupid; he knew she had a whole other life that he wasn't privy to. Everybody has their secrets and he'd hoped that one day she would look at him and trust in him enough that she could share them with him. But that day would never come and it took him a long time to learn that. He was only glad he figured it out before their wedding day. He could accept that she knew things about people that she could never really share with him. That she was out in the world, doing something that he assumed was for the betterment of everyone, and he simply couldn't be included in that. He could even accept that she'd be gone for weeks on end, with no explanations for where she'd been or what she was doing. He could see the bruises and the scrapes and the unexplainable bandages or casts that graced her body. He'd just give her that half-smile, as if to say "It's okay. I understand." And her face would light up as if she was thanking him to the depths of herself for getting it. But of all that had happened and all that he knew, there was one thing he could never accept. The fact that while she loved him, she was in love with another, and much more deeply than she'd ever be with Jimmy.

He wasn't blind; he saw how they were together. He was introduced to Oliver Queen, Bart Allen, Arthur Curry, and Victor Stone as simple friends of hers, a mismatched group obviously. He didn't ask the questions waiting at the tip of his tongue, however, because he knew no honest answers would be forthcoming. So he chalked them up to just another Chloe Mystery and let it go. But it became obvious quickly that things weren't simply friendly. He wrote it off at first, Chloe was a natural flirt and her verbal judo came out with anybody worthy. But his eyes didn't betray him and he could only shrug off so many hints.

If it wasn't the touching, which he had a hard time ignoring...

A brush of his fingers against her neck, a squeeze of her shoulder, a kiss to her cheek or temple, and the hugs that seemed to last too long.

...Then it was just how they interacted.

_"Hey Olsen," he heard as he entered the apartment. His brows lifted as he spotted Oliver Queen sitting on the edge of Chloe's desk. He was surprised the man was still alive seeing as Chloe had an epileptic fit when people sat on her desk, reminding them of just how important all of her papers were and how having their butts on top of them obviously did nothing for her. But as his fiancée walked into the room, she simply slapped Oliver playfully on the arm with the folder in her hands._

_"Cute as your butt is, Ollie, I'd prefer it not on my work."_

_With a grin, he stood up and rounded the desk to stand close behind her as she took her seat._

_Now would be the time that she'd whirl around and uncomfortably remind Jimmy that he was hovering, making him apologize before he slunk away to see what was on TV. But as Oliver put his hands on the armrests of her chair and leaned over her shoulder, face so close his chin brushed her each time he spoke, she didn't get frustrated or lean away from him. She spoke quietly, only loud enough so that he could hear whatever it was they were going over._

_Putting his camera bag down, Jimmy sighed before walking toward the kitchen to get something to snack on. For the next two hours, he tried his best to focus on cleaning his camera but all he kept doing was glancing over to see what Oliver and Chloe were doing now. She'd say something and he'd smile mysteriously, his eyes flicking from the computer screen toward her, always missing how she was doing the same. And as she turned, he didn't draw away but instead kept his face close enough that any sharp movements would have the two of them kissing. Jimmy couldn't help but stare as they gazed into each other's eyes, lips moving slightly as they whispered to each other, their noses bumping._

_Clearing his throat, he stood up and made his way to the bedroom. He couldn't watch anymore._

For awhile, he convinced himself that he was just seeing things. That cold feet had him looking at her differently; had him criticizing their situation and what they might mean to each other. He told himself that in a few months, she'd be his wife and he'd have nothing to worry about. But every time he saw them together, there was something niggling at the back of his mind, begging him to see what was right in front of him.

_After readjusting his tie and smiling at him like she always did, he grinned back at her, reaching out to take her hand. But just as their fingers brushed, he heard her name being called and she turned away, letting his hand fall away from hers carelessly._

_"Chloe?"_

_She turned abruptly, a grin splitting her face. "Oliver," she said, walking a few unnecessary steps toward him. Reaching up, she fiddled with his already perfect tie, tucking it beneath his coat before she let her fingers play with the small, green silk handkerchief in his breast pocket. "Where are the guys?"_

_He motioned with his head and a moment later, she was surrounded by the other three, none of whom appeared to notice Jimmy standing behind her. Once more, he felt left out of the loop._

_Looking_ muy fuerte, _Chloelicious," Bart commented, winking._

_"Why thank you, Bart, you clean up pretty nice yourself."_

_"That wouldn't be his choice," Victor said, brow lifting. "We had to fight with him to get him to change out of his regular jeans and hoodie."_

_"Hey, if it works, it works," Bart said, popping his collar for emphasis._

_AC rolled his eyes. "Clark here with you?"_

_"Yeah, I think he's bickering with Lois around here somewhere," she replied, obviously unaware of how her fingers still stroked back and forth over the green cloth stuffed in Oliver's coat. Oliver's hand had fallen, laying comfortably over the small of her back, thumb stroking along the bare curve of her spine. All the while, Jimmy stood in the background, an outsider watching in._

_"And they left you here on your lonesome, gorgeous?" Bart asked, smirking._

_She shook her head, eyes widening. "Oh! Sorry," She turned suddenly. "Jimmy, I- I'm so sorry. I just..." She lifted her shoulders. "Um, you know the guys." She laughed awkwardly._

_Glancing at each other for a moment and then back at him, AC, Bart, and Victor all nodded hello._

_"Hey Olsen," Oliver greeted. "You get any shocking pictures of the rich and boring yet?"_

_He managed a stiff smile. "Other than Senator Roberts drinking too much wine and groping his secretary in plain sight, no."_

_Chloe's nose wrinkled. "More of an Inquisitor shot, don't you think?"_

_"I doubt the DP would want it. But the camera was going and he got in the way." He shrugged._

_"So you're on duty tonight?" Oliver wondered._

_Jimmy stuffed his hands in his pockets, staring up at the older man. "Well I'm not wearing my camera to a start a new kind of bling."_

_Oliver's brow lifted in amusement._

_"Play nice, you two," Chloe chastised, eyes roaming around the room. "Any particular reason why you four are here? I didn't miss a memo, did I?"_

_"We can't come to admire your beauty?" Oliver replied easily, staring down at her as she grinned up at him._

_"How sweet of all of you to get all dressed up for little ol' me," she replied, lifting a brow before her hand found her waist. "Now spill the beans, boys. I wanna know what's going down."_

_As if on cue, the three other men opened their mouths to explain but one lifted hand from Oliver shut them up. He glanced at Jimmy purposely and Chloe turned her head, a familiar expression of apology crossing her face._

_"I'm going to go see what they have to drink," he said knowingly, accepting her thankful smile before he turned and walked away. He spent the next half hour by the beverage table, glaring at the back of Oliver's head as he continued to stroke Chloe's back lightly while the five of them talked business on whatever it was they were up to now._

_"Kicked out of the club, huh?" Lois Lane's voice interrupted his glaring._

_He looked over to her as she stood next to him, brow lifted. "I left willingly."_

_She snorted. "Yeah, whatever makes you feel better."_

_He sighed. "They'll never let me in, will they?"_

_Lois looked sympathetic for a moment. "Hate to be the one to clue you in, but that club's especially exclusive." She frowned. "Chloe's got a prime seat and she's always going to be a part of it. So I guess you have to figure out if you're okay with playing Mr. Cleaver for her on the side." She put a hand on her hip. "I love my cousin and I know that you think marrying her is going to be great for the both of you, but..." She shook her head. "Sometimes, the truth is staring us in the face." Without saying anything more, she left him there. From a distance, he could hear her calling after Clark. "Smallville! What do I have to do to get a dance around here?"_

_Downing his champagne, Jimmy stared once more at the group. Maybe if it was just Oliver making all the moves, he might be able to accept it and move on. But there Chloe stood, leaning into his touch, her head tipped toward his shoulder, her laugh so much deeper and her smile larger. She was in love with him and it wouldn't be changing any time soon._

Now that he'd been slapped awake, he couldn't avoid the obvious. Just comparing her friendship with the other three in contrast to her and Oliver was enough. She flirted and bantered with Bart, Victor and AC, but it was all in friendly jest. Bart was more like a little brother, AC a good friend she enjoyed debating with over politics, and Victor was her computer-tech wizard that she could talk hacking with until all hours of the day. She relied on them heavily; they were like her family. She loved each and every one of them, and even they stood higher up on the rungs than he did. She would turn to any one of them before she turned to him and he understood that to some extent. But before them came another and on a whole other level.

Oliver was her rock; he was the one she leaned on when she was upset, the one she talked to honestly and about whatever was bothering her, no matter the subject. She didn't watch her words around him or tread lightly on certain topics. She put it all out there and never bothered with hiding her true feelings. He was the man she'd call at three in the morning just to check in while he was out of town on business. He was number one on her speed dial, right above Clark and Lois. He was the guy who brought her favorite ice cream over on nights that Jimmy couldn't get a word out of her about why she was moping. He was who cheered her up out of her most foul moods and knew what she was saying even when she wasn't talking. He was irreplaceable, while Jimmy was just standing in the way.

And Oliver knew it. They all knew it. He could see it in their faces, as if they were just waiting for Chloe to clue in. He saw the looks AC, Bart, and Victor exchanged whenever they saw him, as if they were wondering why he was still around. They were nice to him, they never went out of their way to make him feel left out, but it was obvious they knew what was coming, what was bound to happen. And better than the rest, Oliver knew too. What was worse was that he didn't even really consider Jimmy to be competition. He knew how strong his relationship with Chloe was, he knew he'd get her in the end. It was just a matter of time. And Jimmy understood that now. He understood that his place in her life was just another stepping stone to the big picture. He may be the cameraman, but he wasn't standing next to her for this portrait. He was the one clicking the button and telling her to smile big.

_One week later, he realized he was done. Six days were spent talking himself out of it, convincing himself they could still work, but by the seventh, he had his bags packed and he was waiting for her as he sat in the living room of their apartment. She came walking inside, her arm looped around none other than Oliver Queen's. They stopped mid-laugh and Oliver looked down at the bags knowingly. He didn't look surprised or upset, instead he appeared rather relieved. He turned to Chloe, squeezed her hand and whispered something against her ear before he kissed her temple and left._

_Standing slack-jawed before him, Chloe was completely silent. She glanced from the bags to him, her brow furrowed as if she really didn't get it. She was a genius, he knew, but matters of love always seemed to stump her._

_"I'm going to make this incredibly easy," Jimmy told her, standing up. "I was right before; when I said I jumped the gun. We aren't ready to get married, in fact, we never will be." He walked toward her, feeling his heart pang as he saw her eyes fill with tears. But he wouldn't let it sway him._

_Her mouth opened, eyes wide, and he could already hear the words she was going to say._

_He shook his head and she stopped, waited for him to explain. "Right now, you're trying to figure out how to change my mind, how to tell me that we_ are _ready... But you're really trying to convince yourself." He sighed sadly, hoping his voice wouldn't crack. "I love you and I know you love me, but that's not enough for a lifetime. It's... not enough for me." He reached up, cupped her cheek and wiped away the tears that fell._

_She bit her lip as it shook and her eyes fell, no protests escaping her._

_Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead lingeringly, closing his eyes tight against the onslaught of tears that had been waiting to fall for too long. He pulled away, took a shuddering breath and then gathered up his bags before he left their apartment for good._

They stayed friends; more acquaintances really. She moved out of Metropolis shortly after, but she came back off and on. She got her Pulitzer, four times over, and she got the love of her life just like she always wanted. The hero that deserved her and would take care of her for all that she was worth. Thinking there was no hard feelings, she invited him to the wedding, and he went more because he wanted to be absolutely sure that he'd made the right choice and he hadn't given her up to someone undeserving. But as he sat in the crowd and watched her stand next to Oliver Queen, their hands wound tight, the look on both of their faces said it all.

_"I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Queen," the priest exclaimed._

Oliver kissed the breath right out of her, their arms wrapped so tight around each other Jimmy was surprised either could breathe. Everybody cheered loudly and he heard people murmuring, "Finally!" and "It's about time. Those two have been in love for years. It was so obvious." He clapped but he could barely muster a smile.

He was happy for her, he really was. He'd never forget the way she grinned at him or fixed his ties or how she made him feel all those years ago. She'd made an impact on his life that he'd never be able to ignore. But the hardest truth was that as much as he loved her and as much as he often still wished he'd been selfish enough to keep her, she was never really his. She never belonged with him; she was meant for more. He still didn't know the whole story behind what she did or what she knew, but he was smart enough to see that it involved Oliver.

Over the years, it'd become clear even from an outsider's view that the two of them kept no secrets from each other. There was no way their relationship could be so strong unless they were entirely honest with each other. It was that which told Jimmy that he really wasn't supposed to be with her. She couldn't share her burdens with him, but Oliver could help her carry the load and he did. She never had to give Oliver one of her patented "Sorry Jimmy," smiles or hope he understood when she silently shooed him away from her secret business. Because Oliver was always a part of it, he was there to make sure she knew all that she had to. They worked together in ways that he and Chloe never could have.

Jimmy would marry another and he'd love her more than he ever loved Chloe. He'd know that breaking up with her all those years ago was right for both of them. He'd know that she never really suffered from the abrupt end. She and Oliver had a long marriage that only ended when Oliver passed away in his early-sixties, and she followed barely a year later. They had two sons and a daughter to carry on their name and legacy, all three he was sure took up the secret business their parents had spent their lives creating.

He went to see her once; the Queen graves lay side by side in Star City. He wasn't sure what to say, so instead he laid a bouquet of tulips down in front of the marble gravestone, a bowtie tied around the stems in his own little tribute to her. He didn't see her much throughout the years, but he read her work in the papers and he heard through Clark and Lois that she was happy. He saw pictures of them in the newspaper and he'd spotted them at benefits, connected at the hip, arms around each other lovingly as they championed for charities and the welfare of those less fortunate. He chose not to get close to them after they finally got together. It didn't take long, but he appreciated that they didn't jump right into a relationship. It was at least eight months before he heard they were together and while it hurt at the time, he breathed a small sigh of relief. They never parted after that and as the years went on, Jimmy noticed that her smile never dimmed around Oliver, her laughter never dulled, and she still leaned into him naturally while he held onto her protectively.

It hurt, to let her go all those years ago, but he found the right one for him in a bright and smart mouthed brunette that worked at a print shop down the street from The Daily Planet. She had a sweet smile and mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes. After a cup of coffee and a three hour conversation about cameras and photography, he was done for. They married three years later, had two daughters, and he never regretted that she was the one wearing his ring, that she was the one he said I Do to.

Even if he'd only been a stepping stone in her life, he was still happy he'd been a part of it all. While he wasn't the one for her, he was happy she'd found one deserving of her. She may have broken his heart, but he couldn't deny that Chloe Sullivan had been worth the pain. All these years later, he'd still give up his best camera for one of her infamous grins. He'd just have to comfort himself with the memory, not as bright or as warm, but soothing enough.


	80. Business Related Kissing and Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She interrupted before he could speak. "You're not forgiven."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #008 - Resolutions

The doors to the elevator opened and he stepped out, still dressed in his Armani suit, his hands already lifted and an apology on the end of his tongue.

She interrupted before he could speak. "You're not forgiven."

With a sigh, Oliver followed her as she left her desk and continued toward the kitchen. "It was completely business related," he tried to explain.

She scoffed.

He glared back as AC, Bart, and Victor all chuckled with amusement, sitting on the couches and ignoring their PlayStation in favor of listening to them.

"Chloe, the kiss meant nothing," he assured. "In fact, she kind of slobbers."

" _Excuse_ me?" Dinah called out, offended.

Ignoring her, Oliver continued to pursue Chloe through the kitchen as she stopped by the coffee machine, turned it off and then rounded through the dining room to stand in the living room, behind the couch where all three League men were sitting turned in their seats.

She smiled stiffly. "Well you better hope she gets better because your lips won't be touching mine anytime soon." With that she began walking once more, and it was obvious from her direction that she'd be gathering her coat, shoes, and purse and the show would be over with her departure.

His eyes widened as he continued to follow her. "You can't seriously be cutting me off just because of a little peck?"

"A peck?" She whirled around and he stumbled back in surprise. "Oliver... She had her tongue shoved down your throat."

He nodded. "And mine stayed in my mouth where it was supposed to be."

She lifted a brow, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't care. If you want to play tonsil hockey with Canary, be my guest." She lifted her hands. " _We_ are not together. _We_ simply enjoy a little _thing_ on the side."

His eyes narrowed. "It is not a _thing_." His lips pursed. "And I can't believe you're suddenly deciding our relationship is non-existent because of a covert mission gone wrong." He crossed his arms over his chest. "You're honestly going to pretend that we haven't been together for seven months?"

"We never labeled it." She shrugged, staring at him levelly.

"So you regularly have sex with people you consider friends, colleagues, your boss...?" He lifted a brow, shaking his head.

She straightened her shoulders. "Maybe I do."

He scowled. "Bart?"

"I haven't touched her."

She glared. "Maybe I slept with Victor," she exclaimed. "He's handsome, intelligent, and he loves computers. For all you know, his fingers work just as quick in bed!"

"Why do I feel like somebody just painted a large target on my face?" Victor mumbled, sighing.

"Or even AC," she added. "He's pro-rights, he's an activist, he has a beautiful body, he's-"

"All right, all right, _stop_ ," Oliver interrupted. "I get it. My team is inordinately good looking. I'll fix that later." He looked over at the League menacingly.

"Hey, I wanna hear what great attributes I bring to the team," Bart called out, amused.

"You're funny, good looking, and you probably have incredible stamina," Chloe said, not once taking her eyes off Oliver.

With a growl, Oliver took her hand and dragged her away from the others, locking them behind their bedroom door. He leaned against it heavily so she couldn't escape. "Want to tell me what that was all about?"

She shrugged. "You called me out, I defended myself."

"By insinuating that you're sleeping with my team?" He stared at her incredulously.

"Maybe I am. Apparently, in this _thing_ we have, we can kiss anybody we feel like it." She glared at him. "Pucker up, Bart!" she shouted for emphasis.

"Yes!" Impulse exclaimed, laughing.

"First, stop calling it a _thing_ ," he told her, standing away from the door and walking toward her. "Secondly - Stop puckering Bart!" he shouted back.

"Damn."

"And thirdly," He reached for her, hands finding her waist and gripping her tightly. "If it meant saving the world, I would kiss every woman on this planet. But by the end of the day, I want to come home to you. And every single one of those kisses wouldn't compare at all to the ones I share with you." He swallowed, licking his lips. "So you can be jealous and you can lie about how you apparently want to sleep with my team. But I want you to know that the entire time she had her tongue rammed down my throat, all I could think about was how I wanted to get back here and see you." He drew her body up close to him and her arms uncrossed, hands falling to his biceps. "Now what do I have to do to make it up to you?"

Her lips quirked with a smile. "You can start by taking off that stuffy suit of yours," she told him, lifting a brow.

With a grin, he shrugged off the jacket and his fingers found the front of his pants as she began deftly parting his dress shirt. Leaning forward, he kissed the corner of her eye as they fell to half mass. "You don't really think about sleeping with the others, do you?"

She laughed. "The only hero I want is you." She pushed his shirt away until he shook it from his wrists and he stood bare-chested, his pants joining the rest of his clothes on the floor. His hands found her waist once more and tugged her blouse from her skirt, his fingers kneading her flesh as he drew it up, pulling it apart on it until the buttons popped off. She frowned at him. "I liked that shirt," she muttered.

With a chuckle, he shrugged and tossed it away. "I'll get you another one." His hand looped in the front of her black skirt and pulled her toward him until she was flush against his front. He undid the button in the back and slowly lowered the zipper. She wiggled her hips to help rid herself of the confines of the skirt and his hands cupped her bottom overtop the small green panties she wore. He lifted her up and her legs naturally wrapped around his waist. "So now that we've agreed we're not a thing, can we define this for future reference?" he asked huskily as he kissed her collar, nipping lightly at her skin. His hands kneaded her butt, fingers sliding beneath the rim of her panties to tease her skin.

"What do you wanna be?" she wondered, tipping her head back as she slid her fingers into his hair and gripped it tight while his lips and tongue smoothed over her neck.

"Yours. Permanently." He kissed up her chin and stared into her eyes as she lowered her head, their lips brushing. "What do you say, Sidekick?"

She sighed, lifting a brow and turning her eyes off as if in thought. "I suppose I might be able to fit you in between AC and Victor, but... I can only handle so many good looking men in my life and-" She shrieked with laughter as he laid her down on the bed, tickling her ribs until she was nearly in tears. "Okay, okay, you're all mine and I'm all yours!" she laughed breathily.

"Good," he said, kissing her stomach before he slid on top of her. "So I guess I'll have to stop stringing all those women along, huh?"

"However will they cope?" she teased, rolling her eyes.

"Now that we've resolved our relationship status and that I'm completely forgiven for all work related kissing," he teased in a faux-business tone, "Do you think we should sign something or shake on it? I mean, I don't want this coming up later and-"

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up and kiss me, Oliver."

"If it'll seal the deal, it'd be my pleasure." Leaning forward, he captured her lips with his and this time, his tongue was sure not to stay in just one place.


	81. Anything For Their Watchtower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The JL brothers are just looking out for Chloe and wind up making a boring banquet very interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #009 - Anything

Clark, AC, Bart and Victor were all uncertain about how to deal with their current predicament. The seven year anniversary of ISIS was being held that night to commemorate Chloe and all of her hard work in helping the meteor infected and enlightening the public about such people. Each of them had a tux waiting at home for them to climb into and join the rest of the League and many of its clients at the Metropolis Hilton that Oliver had rented out for the occasion. Personally, they were all beyond proud of their Watchtower making such a public and large accomplishment. But, like always, trouble had a way of following Chloe Sullivan like a bad shadow.

One of her clients had grown an unhealthy attachment to her and had made it quite clear that he was interested in pursuing her. There were two problems the League had with that. One was the fact that Chloe had admitted to each of them that she was feeling uncomfortable by the attention being rained on her. She returned home each night to a full answering machine where the man filled her voice mail with love anecdotes. She received dozens of flowers each day, never the kind she liked, and he was beginning to really unnerve her. Which meant that the boys had to step in, despite her many assurances that she could handle herself.

The second issue they had with her latest admirer was that he was blocking any and all advances in the Oliver and Chloe area. It had come to their notice some weeks ago that their boss had feelings for his favorite sidekick and they while they couldn't decipher Chloe's feelings, they were all sure that it'd be a great match. Considering each of them were either dating, married, or shopping around, they simply wanted the best for their two good friends. And the lovesick look on Oliver's face was beginning to become less funny and more frustrating.

"So what are we gonna do?" Bart wondered, leaning back on the counter he sat on. "What options do we have without letting Chloelicious know what we're up to?"

"We could try muscling him but I have a feeling he'll just avoid us and continue pursuing her," Victor said sighing.

AC snorted, shaking his head. "More like stalking."

"Well we can't let this go on... And I think we need to tell Oliver," Clark offered. "It doesn't feel right keeping this from him."

"We're not lying to him... We're just... not telling him the whole truth." Bart shrugged. "Hey, if Chloe wanted him to know, he'd know."

"Yeah but Chloe wouldn't have told us if we all hadn't walked in to see yet another of his embarrassing advances."

Bart laughed. "You guys remember the dancing teddy bear that kept singing that Barney song?" He shook his head. "Man..."

"If we tell Oliver there's only two ways it can go. He'll either tell us to ignore it and let Chloe deal with it how she likes or he'll scare the man so bad he'll never leave his house again." Victor frowned.

"What's wrong with option two?" Bart rubbed his neck. "I like it."

AC rolled his eyes. "We wanna scare him off, not scare him into becoming a recluse."

"Hey, he never should'a messed with Chloe in the first place. This is like just desserts."

"For sending her boxes of chocolates and showering her with affection? He's just a little over-the-top, Bart. I think we can deal with him without turning him into an agoraphobic."

Bart's brow furrowed deeply. "An egg-what?"

"Never mind," Victor sighed. "The point is I think we should do this without Chloe or Oliver... We'll just talk to the guy."

"And if talking doesn't work?" Clark wondered.

"Then we scare him so bad he'll never think of touching another woman for the rest of his life." He shrugged.

OoO

"So I tried to talk to him," Victor said, coming up to the group of nicely dressed men, all standing awkwardly as their dates spoke with each other across the room.

"And?" Bart asked through a mouthful of food.

"He didn't hear a word I said, he was too busy staring at Chloe as she readjusted the magnum strapped to her leg."

Bart nodded. "Yeah... Me too." He turned his head, winking at Chloe across the room, who rolled her eyes, grinning back before she turned to Oliver once more.

"In any case, I think we need a different approach... Any ideas?"

AC crossed his arms over his chest. "Dinah offered to turn him off women for the rest of his life... But I think it may have involved deafening him, so..." He shrugged, eyes wandering around to find his girlfriend.

"Good luck with that one, Merman," Bart joked, clapping his shoulder.

"She's nicer when you're not hitting on her," he replied, lips curled with amusement.

"Aren't they all?" Victor said, bumping Bart in the shoulder.

Clark rolled his eyes. "If we're done bugging Bart about his non-existent love life..."

"Hey!"

"Can we get back on task?"

"Right..."

"So, we just let him know she's dating someone and he'll back off, right?" AC suggested.

"But who?"

"Why do we have to give a name?" Clark wondered. "We can just imply that she's with someone and hope he gets the point."

Bart clapped his hands together. "Great. Problem solved. I'll stop at the crab dip before I head over and let him know." He winked. "I'll play nice before breaking his heart." He whizzed away in a red blur, only to be seen a second later with a chip in one hand, the crab dip in another, and a smirk in place as he chatted up a brunette.

"He's going to be awhile so I'll go first," Victor said, nodding. He paused, looking around. "Any of you guys seen my wife?"

"I think she was bringing Eliza to the bathroom last time I saw her," Clark replied before shifting back on his feet. "Is it just me or does Lois suddenly seem really interested in kids lately?"

"Clock's ticking, bro. Eventually, she'll want a bunch of munchkins."

Victor snorted. "Nicely put, AC."

He shrugged. "Just sayin' it like it is."

"All right, so let's just give it a little while before each of us talks to him. We don't want him to get suspicious, so try not to just jump onto the subject of Chloe." Victor lifted his brows. "Sound good?"

They nodded.

He sighed, turning to see if he could spot their intended target and then stiffened his shoulders. As he got halfway across the room, he spotted Bart giving him a thumb's up and shook his head with discreet amusement. Stopping casually next to the beverage table, Victor focused on pouring himself some punch before he glanced at the man next to him. "Daniel, right?"

Looking over, the younger gentlemen smiled. "Uh, yes. I'm sorry... I don't know your name..."

"Victor," he replied before motioning around the hall. "Nice place, huh?"

"Yes." He grinned widely. "Chloe certainly went all out." He nodded. "She always does though. Always looking out for the underdog."

He couldn't agree more. "Yeah, her work has really inspired a lot of people."

"How couldn't it? She's brilliant! The way she managed to get her voice out there and tell the stories of so many... She's a hero." He sighed dreamily. "We're quite close, me and her. She's a magnificent woman. Smart, beautiful, funny..." He laughed. "Why just the other day she was saying-"

"I'm dating her," Victor interrupted, surprised with his own outburst.

"You're... You're what?"

He cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm dating her. We've been... dating... For awhile."

"Really?" Daniel's brow furrowed. "I could swear I saw you earlier with a woman and a little girl." He motioned to the gold band on his finger.

"Right, uh... What Chloe and I have is... on the side." His brow furrowed; it was a lot harder coming up with this stuff on spot. "I'd appreciate your discretion."

Daniel stared at him. "So you're really..." He frowned. "Well that's... I never expected that from someone like Chloe."

Victor glanced away and then back awkwardly before lifting a shoulder. "People in love tend to do things that are out of the ordinary for them."

"I see..." Daniel looked away. "Well, I think I'll go see what my friend Joseph is doing... If you'll excuse me..."

"Of course." As Daniel walked away, Victor felt like kicking himself. Shaking his head, he gulped back his cup of punch and sighed. He was about to turn and go tell the others what had slipped out when his wife Susan appeared next to him, a bored Eliza in her arms. "Hey, you two..."

"Daddy, I thought you said there'd be other kids to play with," Eliza pouted.

"I think Melanie is around here somewhere..." He looked around, brows furrowed.

"Daaaaaddy," she sighed, shaking her head. "Melanie couldn't come. She had a date with Mr. Bear!" She rolled her eyes at him.

"Right, of course, how could I forget that your imaginary friend was dating your teddy bear..." He sighed dramatically. "Well, why don't you hang out with your old dad tonight then, hm? We've got punch and cookies..." He lifted his brows.

She frowned, lifting her shoulders. "I guess... But I'll only eat the chocolate cookies."

Victor grinned, picking her up into his arms. "You drive a hard bargain," he said, carrying her toward the goodies table.

OoO

"I thought we were sneaking out of here at eight to go to that rally," Dinah said, lifting a brow as she sipped her champagne.

"We were, or are... I just gotta do something first..." He tugged at his collar, frowning as he tried to loosen his tie further.

With a snort, Dinah batted his hands away before undoing the knot and pulling the tie of entirely. She unbuttoned the top two slots of his dress shirt before stuffing his tie into her clutch and leaning back to inspect how he looked. "There. Better?"

He grinned. "Way."

She smiled. "Remind me again why I'm dating you, surfboy?"

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he drew her closer. "My wicked surfer bod, dude," he exaggerated.

She rolled her eyes before leaning into him and tipping her head back as her arms wrapped around his neck. "Exactly _how_ important is this thing you have to do?" she wondered. "Because I thought we could save the dolphins and then go enjoy some alone time at my nice, empty apartment..." She bit her lip suggestively.

His brow crinkled. "I want to, trust me, but I gotta do this..."

"More important than spur of the moment sex?" She lifted a brow. "Are you bombing another whaling boat?" Her arms fell, hands landing on her hips. "I told you to include me the next time!"

He shook his head, lifting his hands. "No, no... This doesn't have anything to do with that. I just... I need to talk to someone before we go." He shrugged apologetically.

"Well why can't you do it now?"

"But it's only been twenty minutes."

Her brow furrowed. "Since what?"

He sighed. "Never mind." He looked around. "Okay, I'll go now... Just keep that spur of the moment sex in mind..." He walked backwards, smirking at her. "Think of me taking off that dress of yours... And then those sweet lace panties I saw you pull on earlier..." He winked.

"Hurry. Up." She told him pointedly.

With a grin, he turned around and went searching for Daniel, nearly running him over in his haste. "Hey! Dude," he said, clapping his shoulder. "Nice party, right?"

"Yeah," Daniel said, nodding. "Quite the turn out."

"Mhm, totally. So... You bring a date?"

Daniel stared at him uncomfortably. "Um..."

"Whoa, not like that!" AC held his hands up. "I'm all for the women."

With a slight sigh and a half-chuckle, Daniel nodded. "I brought my sister... She was excited to meet the woman who saved her brother's existence."

"Yeah, Chloe's awesome that way."

"She really is. She's... done some extraordinary things." He shook his head, smiling. "Did you know she wanted to be a reporter once? Imagine how life would've been different for all of us if she hadn't taken up a cause." He sighed. "We're really lucky to have her. I don't think anybody else could've reached the masses quite the same. I've read her articles on the meteor infected so many times, I have them memorized." He cleared his throat. " _Lurking just a two hour drive from the Metropolis city's bright lights lies a sleepy town with unfathomable darkness in its past. Many-_ "

Before he could recount Chloe's entire writing history, AC interrupted a little loudly. "Chloe's my girl!"

" _townspeople have_ -What?" Daniel's eyes widened.

AC scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah, Chloe and I are ridin' the relationship wave." His brow furrowed. "Sorry to like throw that out there but... You know, I guess I'm the jealous type and I didn't want you stealin' her away..." He laughed awkwardly, lightly punching Daniel in the arm. "Anyway, yeah, so... Now you know and... I gotta get going, so I'll just..." He pointed his thumb backwards and started walking away. "Later."

Daniel stared after him dumbfounded.

With a sigh, AC turned around and frowned, unable to spot Dinah where he'd left her. Finally seeing her standing with Lois, both of them in what appeared to be a heated argument, he sighed. There was no way he'd be able to drag her away now. Once she got with Lois, it took forever to pull them apart before a catfight broke out. Spotting a waiter carrying a tray of seafood, AC chased after him in hopes of finding out just who supplied the food and where it might've come from.

OoO

Clark glanced over at his wife as she and Dinah got into yet another argument over something. He shook his head to himself; they'd be busy for awhile. Across the room, he noticed a bewildered Daniel watching as AC ran off after a waiter and then turned to stare confused at the back of Victor's head as he held his daughter on his shoulders and passed her up a few cookies. Obviously, the seeds of doubt had been planted in Daniel's mind and Clark was happy to see that Chloe's latest admirer hadn't made any motion to come near her yet. It helped that she'd been standing next to Oliver all night. Clark had noticed that when Oliver was nearby, Daniel tended to stay away. He wasn't sure why, but he had his suspicions.

Turning back to the hopefully soon-to-be couple, he observed as Chloe's head fell back with laughter while Oliver grinned at his own joke, gazing down at her with soft eyes rarely seen on the stoic Justice League leader. Oliver's hand sat over the small of Chloe's back while she stood impossibly close to him, their hips bumping with nearly every movement.

With a soft sigh, Chloe turned her eyes up toward Clark. "So, when am I going to become an aunt?" she asked teasingly.

"You've noticed too, huh?" Clark said, glancing over at his wife.

"Little hard to miss, Boyscout," Oliver said. "She had a stack of baby magazines with her yesterday. She told me she was happy we never stayed together because she didn't want her baby to have a giant chin." He rolled his eyes.

With a chuckle, Chloe lifted her hand and pressed her thumb over the cleft in Oliver's chin. "I like it."

He grinned down at her.

"I didn't think she was ready for kids," Clark said, lips thinning. "I'm not sure our lifestyle has the safety needed for a family."

Chloe's brow lifted skeptically. "But you want one, don't you? You're more scared that you won't be _able_ to give her a child."

Blushing slightly at being caught, Clark nodded. "What if my genes just don't mix with hers?"

"Lois loves you, Clark, and if that's the case then I'm sure she'd be more than happy with adoption..." She motioned to Victor. "In fact, she'd steal Eliza right now if she could."

With a slight laugh, Clark nodded. "Thanks Chlo."

"Beauty and brains," she said cheekily.

"Whatever would we do without you?" Oliver said, lips curling with amusement.

She lifted a brow. "It's a mystery you should never try to solve."

He nodded. "Agreed. We'll keep you forever just in case."

She leaned into him. "No complaints here."

Realizing they were sharing one of _those_ moments, Clark made an excuse and slipped away. However, with his wife preoccupied, his best friend currently flirting with Oliver and the rest of his friends spread out, he made his way to the buffet table in search of something to snack on. While the food wasn't comparable to his mother's, it was made by some of the best caterers Oliver could hire.

"Hello Clark," a familiar voice said and he turned to see Daniel standing next to him. "Seems the banquet was a real hit."

Clark smiled. "Yeah, I don't even think Chloe was expecting such a big turn out."

He nodded, eyes scanning over the room. "I saw a few senators chatting by the desserts and the mayor stopped in earlier."

"Well when she puts her mind to something she doesn't stop until it gets done." He was proud of her; she'd brought due attention to something that needed to be seen and she never let anything stop her.

"Very true." Daniel stuffed a hand in his pocket and stared across the room a long moment. Clark followed his gaze to see he was watching Chloe reverently. "She's an incredible woman."

Clark nodded agreeably.

"Rare to find these days... Somebody with such drive and devotion."

He cleared his throat. "She's been like that since I met her."

Daniel glanced at him and then returned to staring affably after Chloe who stood unknowing of the attention as she talked with Oliver, the two of them standing close still, leaning toward each other to shared a whispered conversation even if privacy wasn't really needed.

Looking around uncomfortably, Clark finally cleared his throat to get Daniel's attention once more. "You know, Chloe's been seeing someone lately... I don't want to make any assumptions but I've noticed you seem to really like her and..."

"You too, huh?" He sighed, shaking his head. "I can't blame you... She's the type of woman that deserves as much love as she can get."

Clark's brows furrowed. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"It's okay, Clark. I know. You're dating Chloe... I must say I'm rather disappointed, I thought you and Lois were doing well..." He shook his head. "But Chloe has a certain draw to her, doesn't she?"

"Uh..."

"Well... Just treat her well, I guess..." He frowned to himself before turning and walking away, leaving Clark standing in confusion. _What?_

OoO

Bart was currently dividing his attention between three _muy fuerte_ ladies, using his special abilities to speed across the room and charm each and every one of them. Natalie, Jessica, and Caitlin were all very different in looks, but had the type of personality that really only drew him in for a night. He wasn't looking for forever, unlike the rest of his team. He was a fast-paced guy that just wanted the instant gratification before he moved on. Fact was, if he was ever going to settle down, he wanted someone like Chloe. But since that ‘licious had moved on without enjoying him for all she could, he let it go and was enjoying his youth as long as he could.

As he was about to race from Jessica to Caitlin, he spotted Daniel walking in the direction of Oliver and Chloe and decided to make his stop before continuing on with his night. He appeared quite suddenly in front of Daniel who came to an abrupt stop and stared wide-eyed at him, waiting for some sort of explanation.

"Hey," Bart greeted. "Noticed you were on your way over to greet the goddess that is Chloelicious... You know she's taken, right? She's riding the Bart train, man, just let her go and move on..." Without waiting for any kind of response, he was gone once more and leaning against the wall, smirking attractively at Caitlin. He briefly glanced over at Daniel who was standing with a frown on his face, staring at Chloe with a confused expression. Instead of continuing on his way, he turned and feeling like he'd done his duty, Bart grinned to himself.

Mission accomplished.

OoO

There was a commotion across the room and each of the Justice League brothers slowly made their way toward the crowd to find their respectable dates standing together, surrounding Daniel who was motioning wildly with his arms. Looking at each other in bewilderment, the four men opened their mouths to ask what was wrong when Oliver and Chloe appeared next to them.

"What's going on?" Chloe asked, brows furrowed.

"Yeah," Lois said, turning around to glare at them, her hands on her hips. "What _is_ going on, boys?"

"Uh..." Shifting back and forth, the four men looked at each other and then back at the group of waiting people.

"I'm waiting," Chloe said, cocking a demanding brow. Oliver's hand squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, but he too stared at them.

"We just wanted Daniel to know Chloe was taken," Bart said, lifting a shoulder.

Oliver smiled slightly. "He already knows."

"Yeah, we made sure of that," Victor said, staring at him with wide eyes as if to tell him something he was missing.

Lifting a hand to run through his hair, Oliver half-frowned. "Daniel's known for a couple days that I'm with Chloe."

"Uh, no boss, _I_ am," Bart reassured, patting his shoulder.

"I _already_ told him _I_ was with Chloe," AC said, brows lifting.

Victor sighed. "So did I."

"Uh, me too, I think..." Clark said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Look, I admire Miss Sullivan, but if I'd _known_ that she had a reputation for..."

Oliver turned abruptly, expression dark. "We're already spoken, Daniel. Let's not have a repeat, all right?"

Swallowing tightly, Daniel nodded. "Of course. I think I'm done for the evening." As he left the banquet, the rest of the group were left standing in awkward silence.

"Arthur Curry!" Dinah exclaimed angrily, disrupting the quiet.

AC's eyes widened. "Babe, it wasn't like that."

"Victor?" his wife asked, hand on her hips and lips thinned. "You wanna tell me what this is about?"

He smiled slightly. "Well, you see..."

"Bart!" "Bart!" "Ugh, Bart!" Three different women shout in unison.

With his shoulders lifted up to his ears, Bart winced. "Later dudes..." He disappeared in a flash of red, leaving three very angry _mamacitas_ in his wake.

"Smallville?" Lois stepped up, glaring. "If we have to hunt down that Daniel guy, you are going to tell him in no uncertain terms that you are _definitely_ not making it with Chloe or so help me-"

"Chloe who?" he half-yelled in a panic.

Chloe shook her head, lifting her hands. "Okay, so wait... What _exactly_ happened tonight? Anybody care to clue me in?"

Oliver grinned with amusement, drawing her up against his side. "The guys were fighting for your honor, Sidekick. They were all trying to scare off your admirer by telling them you were dating them."

She shook her head. "But you already spoke to Daniel." She turned back to the guys who were all shuffling around uncomfortably.

"We were worried about you," Victor admitted. "And we honestly never meant to tell him you were dating us... We agreed to hint that you were dating someone but he started babbling and I just sort of blurted it out that we were dating... Behind my wife's back..." He winced. "It wasn't my brightest moment."

"Yeah, mine either," AC admitted. "I think I mentioned something about relationship waves..." They stared at him blankly. "I just wanted the dude to stop weirding you out, Chlo." He shrugged.

"I have absolutely no idea how he came to the conclusion he did!" Clark lifted his hands. "I told him you were seeing someone and he just decided that it was me... Although the comment he made about you deserving a lot of love suddenly makes sense..." He frowned uncomfortably.

Chuckling, Chloe shook her head. "That is bizarrely sweet, you guys..." She held her arms out and drew them all into a giant hug.

"You know we'd do anything for you, Watchtower," AC told her, half-grinning.

"We obviously could've planned it better..." Victor shrugged. "But in the end it still worked."

She laughed, stepping back and leaning against Oliver's front as if she'd anticipated where he'd be standing. His arms wrapped around her waist, her hands covering his, fingers twining. "I guess I should've kept you in the loop in the first place. Apparently I worried you guys and I didn't mean to." She looked up and smiled at Oliver who grinned down at her. "After I told Green Leather here, he pulled out the macho caveman card and talked to Daniel about his interest in me."

"There was nothing caveman about it..." Oliver rolled his eyes.

She scoffed. "You told him you'd dangle him off a roof if he ever sent another singing teddy bear."

"Yeah, well... That bear was aggravating. Couldn't get that stupid song out of my head for a week."

She patted his hand. "Right. That's why you did it," she teased.

He rested his chin on her head. "In any case, not that I don't appreciate your active interest in keeping Watchtower safe, but next time try informing your leader of your plans." He lifted a disapproving brow at the three remaining men.

"Agreed," Victor said, wrapping an arm around Susan.

"Done. So can we go? ‘Cause I've got plans to safe some dolphins and... other things..." He grinned at Dinah who shook her head with amusement.

"Yeah and this one's gotta make me a baby, so we're gone," Lois said, nodding her head toward Clark who stood blushing next to her. Crossing to Chloe, she hugged her cousin tight, pointed a warning finger at Oliver that said it all and then grabbed Clark's hand. "Come on, Smallville, we've got a long night ahead of us."

"I don't know if I'm worried or happy for him," Chloe mused, brows furrowed.

"He doesn't know either," Oliver assured.

"Victor? If you're done dating your friends and saving them from stalkers, I think it's time to get Eliza home," his wife said, tugging on his hand.

"Right." He turned back to Chloe and Oliver. "Sorry we busted up your banquet."

"Wouldn't be the same if everything went smoothly," she said, grinning.

With a wave, Victor picked Eliza up out of Susan's arms and they left the hall.

"We're going too," AC said, taking Dinah's hand. "And uh, sorry about the dating your girl thing, boss."

"Just don't let it happen again," Oliver said, amused.

With a nod, AC turned, taking Dinah with him.

Oliver shook his head before twirling Chloe in his arms so she was facing him. "Eventful night, Sidekick?"

"Always is." She smiled, leaning into him. "So now that you've officially scared off my admirer and my four pseudo boyfriends, what do you plan to do with me, Mr. Queen?"

He smirked. "I'll be monopolizing the rest of your night, Ms. Sullivan," he promised, leaning down until their noses brushed. "Fulfilling all boyfriend requirements, of course... Satisfying your every need..." His voice lowered with each word.

"Every need?" she asked breathily, lifting a brow.

"Every last one..." He licked his lips, the tip of his tongue brushing her mouth. "Just say the word and I'll have that dress off you and my name whimpering from that beautiful mouth of yours."

She shivered. "I like the sound of that..." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "You should know that I offer the same in return, of course..."

"Of course."

"And Oliver?"

"Mm?"

"The quicker you get me home, the quicker this night can _really_ start."

"Your wish is my command..." Wrapping an arm around her, he directed her toward the doors, the night promising to get even better.


	82. Stress Relieving Us Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's latest mission is to convince his wife that they deserve a little time to themselves, busy schedule or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #4 - Hope

Tugging at his tie, Oliver leaned in the doorway to his wife's office. He glanced down at his cell phone before hitting the off button and watched with a half-smile as his wife ran every which way, one hand full of papers, the other holding her planner. Her hair was up in a lop-sided ponytail, stress and irritation tensing her body, her brows were furrowed, her lips pursed. She rolled her eyes, muttered something under her breath and then shook her head.

He watched her a moment longer before finally interrupting her one-on-one dialogue. "Chlo?"

She looked up, eyes widening and a genuine smile gracing her mouth. "Hey..." she said, stilling in her formerly frenzied actions. "I wasn't expecting you home for hours."

He shrugged, walking closer. "Figured we could spend the morning together... It's been awhile since we've had the opportunity."

She nodded agreeably but then shook her head. "I can't... I've got to pick Erin up from kindergarten and then drop her off at her dance class. You can bet everything on the fact that Jamie is going to call at noon because he ‘ _forgot_ ' his lunch and wants me to either drop some money off at the office or pick up his favorite-"

"Double cheese burger, extra relish, large fries and a chocolate shake," they said simultaneously.

She chuckled. "And then Vanessa has her last class off and she wants a ride out to Tracey's who can't pick her up because she has to stop by Jennifer's and..." She rubbed her temples. "And I have grocery shopping to do. I'd leave it with Jeanette but she already has to pick up the dry-cleaning and clean up the _phenomenal_ mess Jared left in the basement when he had his baseball team over." She licked her lips with anxiety. "Not to mention I still have that byline to write for the Ledger that they've been calling about all weekend and I haven't even _touched_ the satellite images I pulled up last night for the League." Her shoulders slumped, expression becoming drawn. "And then I have to go by ISIS, because I've been hearing things... Things about how Kelsey has been entirely too curt with some of the drop-ins. And, of course, because my day isn't long enough..." She threw her hands up. "Lois _demands_ that we meet for coffee because she has news." She stared up at him. "So, much as I would _love_ to spend the day forgetting _everything_ I need to do and enjoying that incredibly huge and comfortable bed upstairs with a very naked you in it..." He grinned. "I have no time in my schedule."

He nodded, letting out a chuckle. "I'm cut from the list, huh?"

She shrugged. "Should've made an appointment."

He nodded, licking his lips, staring at her with determination. "So no time for anything naked?"

She shook her head, eyes thinning as if she was on to him.

He circled her, eyeing her form top to bottom, just as beautiful as the day he married her. His hands found her hips as he slid up behind her, thumbs stroking overtop her blouse. "Not even for a _little_ while?"

She snorted. "Nothing with you is ever quick."

He smirked, drawing her back until she was leaned up against his chest. His hands slid up, grasped her shoulders and began kneading. He kissed the shell of her ear and nuzzled her temple. "And there's absolutely no time for a little stress relieving? To help you get on with the rest of your very long and taxing day?"

He sometimes missed the days where it was just him and her, where they could hide away in his penthouse apartment and leave clothing and work behind them for an entire weekend. Nothing but a naked and panting Chloe beneath him, writhing and jerking and begging for more, for it to never end. Where they could cuddle on the couch and nap or watch TV or just laze around for a few hours, without the kids or the League or work or even their housekeeper calling for this or that or _something;_ there was always something. And days like this, where he could hand the reigns over to someone else and take a personal day, were rare indeed. And, of course, Chloe's schedule had to be stocked full, so despite his day off she had no spare time for him. But he wasn't giving up yet. As far as he was concerned, there were other people who could handle most of her day, or at least for the next few hours.

"You know, eventually, they're going to come home and people will come looking and finding us wrapped up in each other is not going to make them forgive me for suddenly leaving them high and dry," she said logically, even as her head fell back to his shoulder and she leaned into his mouth kissing down her neck.

He shrugged. "Then we'll just have to rent a private Hotel room under a pseudonym and hope they leave us alone a little while." He thought this through on the drive over; in fact, he was expecting her to put up somewhat of a fight. If he were being honest, there already _was_ a Motel room waiting for them, equipped with champagne and strawberries and an extra can of whip cream. So it may take some doing, but he was going to convince her that they -she- needed this, _deserved_ this. Because enjoying each other to the lengths they so much wanted was rare in a house with four children ages five to seventeen, and a superhero League that dropped in at the most inopportune times, or regular life with Queen Industries, ISIS and the Star City Ledger, always calling for their attention. Frankly, he was surprised they both hadn't keeled over from stress already. But then, these moments, while rare, tended to rejuvenate the both of them.

Her resolved was crumbling; she didn't even fight him as he took the papers and the planner from her hand and tossed them to her desk. She simply arched into his fingers as they ran up and down her back, kneading her lightly, pressing in all the right places to make her relax and forget about whatever duties were waiting for her attention. "But Erin..." she murmured.

"I can call the dance class, they have a pick-up system," he assured, unbuttoning the top few slots of her blouse and gliding his fingers along the revealed fresh.

"And Jamie-"

"Will have to learn to make a sandwich for school."

"But-"

"'Nessa will find a ride."

"Jeanette already has enough on her plate," she reminded, shaking her head slightly. "She does more than any other housekeeper alive and she deserves another raise."

"She'll be making more than me soon enough," he muttered with a laugh. "And Jared should clean up his own mess, anyway. Teach him some respect."

She nodded, biting down on her lip.

He quirked a brow. "Any other reasons I should stop?"

She opened her eyes, flicked them over to look at him and grinned. "I have a few for you to keep going."

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tight to him. "This mean you're taking the day off, Sidekick?"

She cocked a brow, lifting a hand back to cup his cheek, stroking back and forth as she stared at him heatedly. "Maybe I can put off a few errands for a little while..."

He grinned. There was hope yet.


	83. Watchtower Duties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe finds a frustrated Oliver and relieves the stress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #012 - Self-Love

When Chloe walked into the watchtower, she wasn't expecting to find an angry Oliver Queen pacing back and forth, ranting and raving to the seemingly empty room. What surprised her more was that all he was saying seemed to be damaging only to him; a few shots to the ego that obviously had something to do with the bandage across his shoulder. He always seemed to get down on himself when he was reminded of his lack of immortality.

"If you self-hate fest is over with," she called out, interrupting him.

Whirling around, his glare melted and he sent her a half-smirk. "Well I'd try self-love, but I wouldn't want you to get jealous, Sidekick."

She snorted, shrugging off her coat to toss away before she walked toward him, hips swaying. "Nice bandage, Arrow, very stylish."

"What this? It's all the rage in France," he replied, reaching out with his good arm to draw her up against him. He stared down into her eyes. "You know what would perk up my spirits, ‘tower?"

"You've had a long night, you think you can handle anything _perky_?" She lifted a brow, sliding her body up against his as her arms wrapped around his neck.

He hauled her up with his good arm until her legs were wrapped around his waist. "I can handle anything you can give," he breathed lowly against her mouth.

"I dunno... That self-love idea might be better... After all, you _do_ still have one good hand."

He laughed, lifting a brow. "Planning on watching, Sidekick?"

"I'm sure I'll lend a hand or two after you get things started."

Turning toward the bedroom, he grinned, no longer wearing all the worries of the world on his shoulders.

Chloe ran her fingers through his hair, kissing up and down his neck, nuzzling him with her nose. Of all her Watchtower duties, she was fairly certain keeping her favorite green leather hero from being his own worst critic was the best.


	84. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, they got a little off task, but really, who could blame them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #013 - Kisses

He pressed her up against the wall, their fingers tangling as he held her hands up, pinned them above her head. His body molded to hers, his lips slanting back and forth possessively. She tried to remember something; it was niggling at the back of her mind. But she was too absorbed in the strong strokes of his tongue against hers and along the roof of her mouth. His teeth bit her lower lip lightly, soothing the sting with light kisses before he was capturing her mouth fully once more. She forgot air, she forgot most everything. She rocked her hips against him, felt a low growl in his throat. One of his hands fell from hers, slid down her body and squeezed her hip before sliding around to cup her butt, drawing her up against him. She could feel his own reaction to their feverish kissing pressed hard against her now, through the thin fabric of her dress-Wait, dress? Why was she...?

Her eyes shot open and she remembered now. Her free hand fell, clasped his shoulder and pushed him back slightly. Oliver opened his eyes suddenly and stared at her, heated brown meeting her liquid green. They both blinked rapidly, licking their swollen lips.

He readjusted his tuxedo jacket and looked around. "Guards are gone," he said unnecessarily.

She nodded, clearing her throat and righted her dress. "We should move fast," she said, wincing inwardly at the wording. "The download won't take long but they're bound to make their way back here and if they don't see us, they'll get suspicious and start checking rooms."

He nodded, pointing toward the designated office three doors down. His hand found the small of her back as they hurried down the hall with him glancing back every few steps just to be sure they were safe. He picked the lock with ease and held the door open for her with a smirk. She slid past and quickly took her seat behind the desk, getting to work. It took all of three minutes, even with him hovering over her shoulder, watching every click of her fingers and observing her face and then the screen, back and forth, curiously.

"Got it," she said, lips curving in a grin.

He smiled back and their eyes caught for a moment, the air seeming to leave the entire room.

And then there were voices and footsteps outside the room.

Before she could even blink, Oliver had her sprawled out on a settee, one of his hands up her dress, stroking her now visible thigh and his mouth attached to her neck. Her dress had come loose, the straps hanging off her shoulders and she knew without having to touch her hair that it was a mess, as if she'd been thoroughly ravished. She rocked her hips against his for effect as the door opened, completely ignoring the light that shone down on them. She gripped his shoulder, balling the fabric beneath her fingers, half out of fear and half for show. "Mmm," she moaned, biting her lip as he suckled her neck diligently. _That_ was going to leave a mark.

"Hey! How'd you two get in here?"

Oliver looked over, blinking one eye against the flashlight pointed in their direction, and grinned. "Door was unlocked." He shrugged before running a hand down Chloe's chest from her neck to the low collar of her dress. "Can you blame me?"

The guard leered a moment before clearing his throat. "This is restricted from the guests. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Oliver sighed, as if exasperated and stood up before reaching a hand down to her and helping her up. She appreciated it more because her knees were a little wobbly beneath her. His arm wrapped around her waist and drew her close against him. He nodded to the guard as they walked out and Chloe breathed a sigh of relief as they returned to the party without problem. "Ready to go, Sidekick?" he whispered against her ear.

"Very." She smiled. "These heels are killing me."

He laughed lowly. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

Her brow furrowed. "Besides going over all of what we just found a few dozen times?"

"Why don't you let me take you out for a coffee?" he asked, staring at her with dark brown eyes.

She frowned slightly. "This wouldn't have anything to do with that little show we just put on, would it? Because if your hormones are still raging, I don't want you to regret this tomor-"

He cut her off with a kiss, his fingers burying in her already lopsided hair and his hand gripping her waist tightly. "Trust me," he said against her lips as they parted, "I've wanted to do that for awhile... I just happened to get lucky when the guards walked by." He lifted a brow. "Have I mentioned you look absolutely stunning tonight?"

She grinned. "Once or twice."

"I'm not as charming as I remember," he said, sighing dramatically. "So?" He cocked a brow. "Coffee, Miss Sullivan?"

She shook her head, unable to stop her smile as they walked out of the building, mission accomplished and date on the horizon. "I think I can fit you into my schedule, Mr. Queen."

"Looking forward to it."

_Ditto_.


	85. Lifetime of Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If I told you that you could tell him _everything_ , what would you do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #018 - Honesty

"Does he know?" Oliver asked, the weight of the words so obvious.

She turned away from the computer designated as her own when Watchtower duties were at hand. "No," she said, eyes falling for a moment. "Apparently there are some things soon-to-be husbands and wives can't share with each other."

He nodded. "If he asked you...?"

She frowned. "I wouldn't say a word, Ollie, you know that."

He smiled slightly. "You're going to be marrying him, promising a lifetime... Can you be happy like this? You're essentially living a double life, Sidekick."

She bit her lip. "You know I thought I could and then... There are these moments where he looks at me like he knows that I'm not being completely honest, like he knows that there is something different about me... But he won't ask. And sometimes," Her brow wrinkled, "I _want_ him to, I want him to get mad and tell me that we _should_ be honest, we should tell each other everything. But we don't. There are..." She shook her head derisively, " _so_ many things that he'll never know about me. I mean, is that love, Oliver? Can you love someone if you don't know them entirely?"

"I can't tell you who you love..." He knelt next to her. "The two times that I thought I was in love, I was never honest with them, not really." His brow furrowed almost comically, "In fact, you're the only woman who knows everything about me."

"I still carry an EpiPen everywhere I go," she said with a soft chuckle.

He grinned before letting out a heavy sigh. "I just know that if it was me who was engaged, if I was vowing forever, I would want to know that I can be honest with that person and I would expect the same."

She swallowed tightly, nodding. "So what do I do?"

He stared at her. "If I told you that you could tell him _everything_ , what would you do?"

She bit her lip, her brow furrowing. "I still wouldn't tell him."

He nodded. "There's your answer." He took her hands, stroking her palms with his thumbs. "You deserve someone who knows you and that you know just as deeply..." He half-smiled. "You're an incredible woman, Sidekick. Don't settle."

She tried to blink away her tears unsuccessfully. "You offering yourself up?" she joked in a choked laugh.

He wiped away a tear with his thumb. "When you're ready to date again, I will definitely be first in line to take you out..."

She stared at him, wide-eyed.

He grinned before standing up and kissing her forehead lightly. "Take the rest of the day off. You deserve it."

She nodded, picking up her purse absently. She had to have a talk with a certain soon-to-be ex-fiancé. She paused on the elevator. "Ollie?" she called to him. "Thank you."

He tipped his head to her as the elevator began its descent. "Any time."


	86. Ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompts** : (1) #020 - Laughter | (2) "I do my best work in the dark" by swing_set13 | (3) "Say it slower this time, with your pants off" by swing_set13

Laughing, she shook her head. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

He shrugged lightly, grinning. "I prefer the term committed."

"Ollie, there's no time." She shook her head. "We're currently sitting in a dead car in the middle of nowhere, which by the way wouldn't have happened if you'd stopped at the gas station to not only get directions but also get _gas!_ "

He rolled his eyes. "The gauge said half-full and I figured the GPS could've taken us where we needed to go."

She lifted a brow derisively. "Because it's been working so well the last four hours we've been lost."

He frowned. "It was more of three and a half."

She snorted, throwing her hands up. "Ridiculous, as I said."

He turned toward her, taking one of her hands in his and stroking the underside of her forearm delicately. "This is supposed to be an anniversary to remember... So I don't see what the difference is if we take out an hour to enjoy the backseat rather than walking _all_ the way back to the gas station."

Her brows rose comically. "It's freezing and it's getting dark out. The lights don't even work in this thing."

He smirked. "I do my best work in the dark," he boasted.

"I'm well aware," she muttered, half-smiling. "But I don't think we have the time here. Our reservation was for three hours ago. By the time we get there, _if_ we get there, we'll probably be sleeping in the car."

He smirked. "Problem solved then. We'll stay here tonight, in the very comfortable backseat, and tomorrow I'll walk to the gas station for gas _and_ directions." Before she could say anything, he was in the backseat and motioning for her to join him. Rolling her eyes, a chuckle escaping her, she crawled back to sit next to him.

"We're going to freeze to death in here," she told him.

Half-grinning, he buried his face in her shoulder and began kissing up and down her neck. "I'll keep you warm."

"For a hero like you," She let her head fall back, enjoying his mouth, "You'd think you'd be more interested in saving the damsel in distress. And remembering to fill up the tank." She giggled as he nibbled her ear. She buried a hand in his hair, tugging lightly as he led his lips down to her shoulder, nuzzling her shirt out of the way. "We shouldn't be doing this... People will worry when we don't call... Don't make our reservation..." Her eyes fluttered and she bit her lip as he slid the sleeve of her shirt down her arm and followed the path with his lips. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Mm hmm," he hummed, continuing on his exploration of her upper chest.

"Ollie," she chastised half-heartedly.

He sighed. "Fine." He looked up at her. "Say it slower this time, with your pants off."

She laughed despite herself.

And he triumphantly managed to lean her back on the seat.

The next morning, Chloe woke up warm, naked and sprawled on top of an equally naked boyfriend of hers. She looked around in confusion for a moment before remembering what had happened. Rolling her eyes, she sighed to herself and stared down at the far-too convincing man who got her into this mess. "Ridiculous," she murmured. Ridiculously stupid, funny, and incredible. She loved every second of it.  



	87. Grace Avalon the Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were all in awe of her, while Oliver was inwardly laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #019 - Grace

He'd heard the whispers, of course. It was an unfortunate duty of his standing that he had to know all of the gossip he could. It amused him to no end when he heard them talking about her; how glamorous and gorgeous and absolutely unattainable she was. They had no idea where she'd come from but she fit so well into _their_ society that they didn't question it. The fundraiser was in full swing when she entered, an emerald green gown swathed around her curves so elegantly it was no wonder she appeared to be floating. Her hair was pinned up in the kind of way that made it seem tossed together and at the same time done professionally. As if she was too perfect to care about her hair or how she looked, because she already knew they were all in awe of her. Were it anybody else, he'd of rolled his eyes. Instead, he continued to inwardly laugh at the entire scenario.

She glided across the dance floor, two bodyguards at her sides that he recognized well, speaking into their cufflinks. He almost felt like he was in a movie as he took in their attire; black sunglasses, manicured suits, their arms crossed hand-over-wrist as they walked three steps behind her at all times. She casually took in the crowd, eyes never settling on anyone in particular. She walked right past him as if she didn't know him, but he could see the slight twitch of her lips, even if nobody else did.

The whispers began again and he nodded as he listened to one of his business associates prattle on about her.

"Grace Avalon the Second," he whispered like a young child at Christmas. "Probably outdoes your net worth, Queen."

He smirked slightly.

"Stunning, isn't she?"

He nodded agreeably, but he'd noticed that long before she was dressed in millions of dollars worth of emeralds and diamonds.

"I heard Crenshaw was going to be her date tonight..." He whistled. "Looks like she wasn't interested."

"She doesn't appear to be interested in many," Oliver drawled.

"Mm," he nodded. "She always makes it to the benefits though. Must have a soft heart beneath all that glamour."

"She's no different than us," he reminded, lifting a brow.

"Oh she's different! I heard she had a threat on her life just like week! And the week before that she had her car bombed." He shook his head. "I've gotten into a few too many scandals in my career, but I've never been targeted by the mob."

"Mob?" He nearly laughed.

"Of course! Who else would be able to attack her that way?" His eyes widened so much, Oliver worried they might pop right out of his head.

"She's a regular person, Frank. Nothing to awe at."

Frank snorted. "Regular people don't look like _that_..." He whistled once more. "I'd bet my business that she wouldn't even look _your_ way."

"Is that right?"

He lifted a brow. "All right, maybe not by business. You _do_ have a reputation. But I'd make it interesting."

Oliver smirked. "Save your money, Frank. This one will be pure satisfaction." He placed his champagne on the table behind him, straightened his jacket and began crossing the room. He was fully aware of the many eyes watching; gleeful that one of them may or may not be able to crack the enigma of Grace Avalon the Second.

As he got close, the guards stepped forward, one of them placing a large, dark hand on his chest. "Keep your distance, sir."

Oliver's mouth twitched. He glanced down at the hand against his chest and wasn't surprised when it was retracted. "Is Miss. Avalon free to dance or do I have to find two lady friends to join you two on the dance floor as well?"

From behind her guards, Grace's lips quirked. She turned her head slightly, dazzling green eyes staring right into his brown.

"Sorry sir, you'll have to-"

"It's all right, Victor," she interrupted. Stepping closer, though still staying behind her two guards, she lifted a hand to him. "Queen, was it?"

"Oliver," he said.

She nodded, thumb swiping along the top of his hand as they shook up and down. He tried not to show the shiver that ran down his spine. "Please excuse my guards," she said, glancing back and forth between the two men affectionately. "Arthur and Victor can be rather protective lately..."

"It would be wise not to step out from our guard," Arthur told her, staring down at her through his dark glasses.

She grinned up at him. "It's only one dance." She stepped through them. "Loosen up a little, boys. You might enjoy yourselves." With that, she followed Oliver out onto the dance floor, stepping in close as his free hand fell to the small of her back. The music started up, a soft classical tune that screamed deep romance. His mind whirled with ideas but he stayed on task, taking only a moment to glance at the slack-jawed Frank.

"I've heard quite a lot about you, Miss Avalon," he said into her ear.

"Is that right, Mr. Queen?" she murmured back.

"Oliver, please."

She nodded, brow quirking. "And what have you heard about me?"

"Well that's the interesting part..." He twirled her around, drawing her back in so close her front was plastered to his. "There's a whole lot of _nothing_ going around..."

She grinned. "Good to know." She squeezed his hand lightly. "The plan's working then?"

"Fantastically."

"You realize now that after dancing with you, it'll be my _humble_ duty to dance with Mr. Koss."

"Much as it pains me to give you away, it's all in the name of justice." He dipped her back so far her hair just barely grazed the floor and then lifted her back up with perfect ease, the slit of her gown rising up her thigh and the swell of her breasts rubbing down his chest. His breath caught for just a moment. "It's been too long since I've had you in my arms..."

She twirled herself out and as she came back in, her back was pressed to his chest, head tipped, hips swaying side to side, her round, firm bottom enticing him through his pressed pants. "It's taken me six months to become the debonair and ever-intriguing Grace Avalon, Ollie... As much as I would _love_ to have our own little reunion in a hotel room, this job comes first..."

He inwardly sighed. "How certain are we that Koss is the prime dealer in the Kryptonite serum?"

"So certain that I've become an entirely different person just to get close to him." She laughed for the crowd, making it look as though he'd delighted her with his wit. "Is he looking?"

Oliver glanced up for just a moment, spotting Jon Koss staring out with interest.

"Unfortunately," he murmured.

"We're doing good here, Oliver," she reminded, lifting a hand back to cup his cheek gently. She let it fall slowly, as if it were all part of the dance. "It was _you_ who thought I'd be perfect for this, remember?"

He sighed, forcing a smile to cover his frown. "That was before I knew my fiancé would be away from me for six long months..."

"That'll make our reunion all the more incredible," she whispered, turning around in his arms once more.

He hugged her close, continuing to dance only for the crowd, when really he just wanted to sweep her away, gather her up into his arms and lay her back on a soft bed, strip away the gown and leave her in nothing but all the diamonds she was wearing as he plunged deep inside her, their hands twined against the bed, his mouth kissing her everywhere he could reach. But he'd have to wait... For the betterment of the world, he had to wait.

He dipped her back once more, her beautiful body curving so deliciously it made him want to forget all about the safety of others. And then she was rising back up, her blonde hair falling beautifully around her face, framing flushed cheeks, pink lips, and those green eyes he fell in love with three years ago. She grinned at him, her mouth so close he could kiss it. "When this is all over and Koss is served justice... it'll just be me, you, and no clothing for an entire weekend."

He smirked. "Try a week, Sidekick."

She laughed, lifting up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek lingeringly. "I love you."

He pressed his forehead to hers briefly. "Love you too, Chloe."

She swept away from his arms elegantly, hips swaying enticingly as she walked toward her guards once more. Before she could reach them, Koss had appeared next to her, smiling charmingly and holding out his hand for her to shake. Chloe played the mysterious heiress, took his hand and waved off her guards as she joined Jon on the dance floor once more. He chose not to watch, instead making his way toward Frank once more, glancing only at AC and Victor to exchange a nod as the games really began.

"You've got guts, Queen," Frank said as he appeared next to him. "So? What was she like?"

Picking up his champagne, Oliver grinned at his associate. "More than you can imagine."

Frank sighed wistfully. "Think I can lure her away from Koss for a dance?"

"You can try."

He sipped his champagne, already counting the minutes until he could have her back and all his own. He loved his job, loved what it entailed and the satisfaction it gave him when another plan to disturb the world was foiled. He knew Chloe felt the same, which was why she was out there, putting on a show for Jon Koss in hopes that he might fall for her charm and let her even a little bit into his world so she could take him down from the inside. This was their destiny and they would dutifully carry it out. But when it was finally over, he would be happy to get Chloe back and leave Grace Avalon the Second in the past. While she was beautiful and mysterious and stunning in all of her wealth and curious background, she lacked the warmth and genuine good nature that the real Chloe Sullivan exuded. Soon, he assured himself...


	88. Mystery Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe's Mystery Lover is up for discussion and Lois has quite a bit to say... Can't hurt that Oliver's listening in too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #022 - Happiness

Oliver hadn't meant to eavesdrop. Although it was a regularity in his double life, he had never taken to doing so on anybody close to him. He valued his own privacy to an extreme degree, so to invade another's, especially  _hers_ , was easily going to eat away at him. But just as he was about to enter her room, he'd heard something that grabbed onto his attention and his feet found themselves glued to the floor as he leaned against the wall, ears extended out as far as he could get them for a better hearing angle.

"So wait, I don't even get the  _name_ of this sex 'em up hottie who's taking you away on a romantic vacay? Even after all the cousin points I got for being there for you while you moped for months on end after the whole wedding fiasco with Jimmy?" Frowning, she crossed her arms over her chest petulantly.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Lo, you not only complained about how you didn't get to show yourself off in your maid of honor dress, but you put Jimmy down every single time you saw me, somehow thinking that was meant to cheer me up."

"And it did," she claimed, hands landing on her hips. "Look at you, you're packing all of your frilly and see-through negligee to show off to Mr. Mystery while you give your favorite and coolest cousin absolutely  _nothing_ to go on to make sure he's not a homicidal ax murderer."

With a light snort, Chloe shook her head. "Trust me... He's the farthest thing from it."

"No offense, Chlo, but your weird meter's been off lately. I mean... You almost _married_  Jimmy Olsen... That's gotta count as out-of-this-world-unordinary..."

Zipping up her suitcase, Chloe sat down on the end of the bed. "And I can safely say, without the smallest doubt, that this man is not an axe-murderer, nor is he anything remotely close... Trust me when I say you will  _not_ be getting a frantic call from me telling you that I'm in severe danger via Mr. Mystery."

With a disgruntled sigh, Lois sat down next to her. "Fine... But just so we're clear, the first person you'll call if he  _is_ said murderer?" She lifted her brows for emphasis.

With a grin, Chloe wrapped an arm around her. "You, of course. And  _then_ I'll dial 911."

Straightening her shoulders, Lois nodded. "Exactly."

Straightening her shirt absently, Chloe stood back up. "Now all I need to do is find my favorite shoes..."

"Oh... Not those tall black heels with the strappy-- Never mind... Uh, you can borrow whatever you want from  _my_ closet..." Lois gave her an innocent smile that wasn't fooling anybody.

"Lois, not my  _shoes..._ "

"Blame it on, Clark. He thought running down an alley after some smelly guy with a red rock was a  _good_ idea. And I didn't see the  _giant_ puddle of something-you-don't-even-want-to-know-the- _name­-_ of coming, so..."

Chloe continued to glare at her.

Lois sighed. "Oh please, get Oliver to pick you up a pair of  _real_ French heels when he drops you off in Paris with Mystery Lover."

"What makes you think I can get Oliver Queen to buy me  _one_ pair of shoes that ranges in the  _thousands_ of dollars?" she replied, amused.

"Uh,  _hello_ , Earth to Chloe... Not only is he a billionaire that can surely sacrifice a couple thou, but that man would do just about anything for his faithful Watchtower..."

"He would not..." She tried to hide her smile, but her faint blush wasn't so easily covered.

" _Please!_ " She smirked knowingly. "He'd give up his left arm if you asked for it. And I'm fifty percent sure that's the one he needs for his bow and arrows..."

She quirked a brow. "Only fifty?"

"Fiftie's on the other arm..." She winked mischievously. "Anyway, if you weren't already hooked up with Mystery Man, I'd be playing matchmaker for you and Ollie." She rubbed her hands together teasingly.

"Really?" she asked surprised. "But he's... Well, Ollie."

"Okay, so we have a past, I loved him, he loved me, I wasn't ready for the hero thing... Blah, blah, blah... That doesn't change the fact that you two would be hot together.  _And_ he so obviously already has feelings for you."

"Lois..." Chloe sighed, turning her back to her cousin as she rifled through her closet for shoes.

"Just hear me out, okay? Now, I've known Oliver for awhile now and I've seen him go through just about every emotion there is. But when he's with you, his happiness level skyrockets. I'm not even kidding, Chlo. He smiles more, he  _laughs_ , and he doesn't always show the stoic leader face, but actually lets his guard down with you. And as much as we cared for each other, his guard was still always up with me..." Standing up from the bed, Lois walked over to Chloe and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Whoever this guy is you're going to Paris for, I really,  _really_ hope he's worth you. Because there is a  _great_ guy  _here_ who I  _know_ is worthy."

Turning, Chloe looked up at her with a hesitant smile. "I don't think I've ever heard you so sentimental, Lo."

Rolling her eyes, Lois shrugged. "Whatever, I'm just looking out for you." Stepping away, she walked back toward the suitcase. "And don't even  _start_ me on listing all the ways  _you_ light up when Oliver walks in a room."

Chloe shook her head. "Save the list. I have a plane to catch."

"Right... Where is your favorite hero in green anyway?"

Taking his cue, Oliver reached across and knocked lightly on the door frame as he stepped in side. "Heard somebody needed an express flight to Paris, France," he announced, smiling over at Chloe.

"That'd be me,  _monsieur_."

With an arm extended and the other across his waist, Oliver bent forward in a comic bow. " _Mademoiselle_ ," he greeted grinning. As he stood back up, he reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss gently. "Allow me to get your bags?"

" _Merci_."

"Gag," Lois said, rolling her eyes. "You two are  _way_ too-"

"Thank you, Lois," Chloe interrupted. "For helping me with my bags and... everything else."

"Yeah, yeah. Enjoy Paris and bring me back two Frenchmen and a butt load of souvenirs," she said, reaching out to hug her tight.

" _Two_ Frenchmen?" Oliver asked, hauling Chloe's duffel bag over his shoulder and taking the handle of her suitcase into his hand to lift off the bed.

"Yeah, when one's too tired..." She trailed off, smirking as she wiggled her eyebrows.

"You never cease to amaze me," he joked, making his way to the door.

With one last hug, Chloe turned from her cousin and followed Oliver to the door. He turned back in time to see Lois pointing at him and making weird motions with her hand and kissy faces at Chloe while she shook her head, grinning at her overzealous older cousin.

"Limo's waiting downstairs," he told her as they exited the apartment.

"Couldn't just get a taxi?" she asked, grinning.

"Blasphemy."

Laughing, she shook her head and walked just in front of him as they took the stairs down to the main floor and out the door to the waiting black limousine. The driver opened the door for her and then helped Oliver get the bags in the back before he joined her in the leather upholstered luxury seats.

"To Metropolis airport, sir? I called ahead to make sure your private strip was open," the driver told him.

"Great. Thank you."

He nodded before turning back to face the road and raising the privacy screen for them.

Leaning back in the seats comfortably, Chloe closed her eyes and sighed. "You certainly drive in style, Queen."

"Don't get used to it. When you're in Paris, you'll be walking everywhere. I can see you now, the ultimate tourist, with a digital camera in one hand and a map of all the sights in the other."

Laughing, she opened her eyes to look up at him. "Yeah, and what will  _you_  be doing?"

"Fulfilling your every whim, of course." Smirking, he wrapped an arm around her and drew her up against him. "It's my job as Mystery Lover, you see..."

"Really?" she murmured.

"Mm... In and outside of the hotel suite."

" _That_... sounds very promising." Lifting her knee, she maneuvered herself over until she was straddling him, with either of his hands on the front of his chest. His head fell back so he could see her more easily. "And if I wanted this vacation with my Mystery Lover to start early...?" She rocked her hips against him while slowly unbuttoning the front of his green dress shirt.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he slid his hands up her back, tracing her spine and kneading her shoulders before he cupped her neck gently and brought her in close, their lips barely a breath apart. "Just say the word, Sidekick."

The tip of her tongue reached out, lightly licking his top lip. "You have a tendency of leaving me speechless..." She nuzzled his nose with hers, smiling. "You've got ten minutes until we reach the airport. Think you can make me talk?"

"I'll do more than that..." Turning her over until she was sprawled across the backseat with him hovering overtop her, their pelvis glued together tightly, he whispered against her ear, a promise of exhilarating proportions. "I'll make you scream."

She felt a whimper well up in her throat just from the idea and her eyes fluttered shut. She could barely drag in a breath before his mouth was on hers, tongue and lips marking her as his own while his teeth lightly nibbled her lips, nipping at her tongue. She let out a hiccup of a breath as his hand reached down and gripped her thigh, dragging it higher on his waist.

While their vacation was just beginning, he was already imagining that when it was over, the secrecy would be gone. They finally knew that Lois wouldn't be hurt if they admitted their relationship to her. But they had two weeks until then and he rather enjoyed being Chloe Sullivan's mystery man, whisking her away on trips to exotic places without anyone being the wiser to who it was who brought her pleasure to all new heights. It would be nice to shed the anonymity when he got back but until then, he'd have her all to himself in the city of love, where he'd be sure to end her speechlessness each and every day, afternoon and night that he could manage.

Breaking away from her lips, Oliver buried his face against her neck, pressing frenzied kisses against her skin.

"So..." She grinned, one of her hands squeezing his shoulder. "I've heard from a reliable source..." She bit her lip as he ground his hips against her, rubbing in just the right manner. "That I make you happy..."

He paused in his movements and lifted his face to look at her, surprised to find she actually looked a little uncertain. Cupping her cheek, he pressed a soft, gentle kiss to her lips. "The happiest," he admitted honestly.

Chloe smiled. "Same."

"Now that we have that cleared up..." He smirked. "Can I get back to making you scream my name?"

Laughing, she nodded. "Carry on."


	89. Going On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He made his choice and it was her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for season 8 finale, "Doomsday"

She knew he was there without having to turn and see. He didn't send up a gust of wind like Clark and he didn't head straight for the fridge like Bart. There were no warning signs, really. Dinah at least showed the courtesy of knocking. He, however, appeared out of thin air; he might not have superpowers, but he'd honed what he did have to the bitter end. A picked lock seemed like nothing in the grand scheme, and really, who was she to point fingers over breaking and entering? She'd done enough of it in her time.

"I didn't expect to see you so soon," she announced, turning slowly to face him.

He nearly shrugged, started but then allowed his shoulders to simply sag. "I was at the funeral."

"Right." She smiled bitterly. "On the outskirts, wearing the infamous sunglasses. Very subtle."

His jaw tightened but he said nothing, his eyes turning away in what she was certain was shame.

"You know, of all of you, I expected you the least."

He raised his chin. "Expectations are overrated... I never expected to become the fallen hero, but..." He head shook side to side. "Here I am."

She stared at him, eyes boring into him severely. Her posture, once painfully tight, lightened now. "Are you?" she asked, lifting a brow.

Not one for backing down, he met her stare head on. "Am I what?"

"Fallen," she said simply. "Because, in my opinion, those who fall can always get back. Now those who lay down..."

He sighed, his chest deflating along with all of the rest of him. "It's not that easy." Brown eyes lowered as if he couldn't bear to look at her. His hands curled into fists and then his fingers spread out, back and forth, restless. "I... I killed... I was willing to kill again..." He swallowed tightly, his throat bobbing with the strain.

"You're not a killer, Ollie."

He looked up sharply, half angry at her for such a soft tone. There should be anger, hurt, _fear_ , something other than understanding. "I killed, Chloe..." He frowned. "Pretty sure that makes me a killer."

Walking toward him, she kept her gaze level with his own. "That night, with Davis, you had your chance... He was right there in front of you. All you had to do was let go of the arrow..." Her head swayed side to side, tendrils of blonde brushing her cheeks. "It would've pierced him long before I reached him." Her brow furrowed. "But you know that... You knew..."

His teeth ground together. "I could've hit you in the process," he replied, voice low, deep.

Brows rising, she came to a stop a mere foot from him. "So it was me or every innocent life waiting outside... Why didn't you take the shot?"

"It was too close." His eyes darted away and then back. "I-I tried to stop you... You can't trust people. You- You and Clark, you're always choosing to believe that everybody is better than what they are. And look! Look what he did to you!" He stepped back, began pacing right before her. "All this time, he could've killed you without having the strength to help him stop. And you- you just _went_! You chose Clark's life over your own!" He laughed, a stuttered disjointed noise escaping his throat.

Suddenly, whirling, he was in front of her once more, his hands wrapped tight around her upper-arms. "Why? What makes his life so much more than yours?" He shook her, unable to stop himself. "What? Tell me, because I can't figure it out!" he yelled, his chest heaving.

Staring up at him, her eyes stinging, she replied, "Maybe it's the same reason you chose me... All those people, they didn't get to choose. Only you did, Ollie. And you made your choice. It was me or them. One split second to decide. Shoot, on the off chance you might hit me, or risk the lives of everyone else..." She let a tear escape, run down her cheek, drip from her chin, unceremoniously. "And you chose _me_."

His fingers dug into her arms before finally loosening and dragging her forward, against him, hugging her there closely. "I hope it's not. I hope our reasons aren't the same. Because mine was selfish..."

Resting her face against his chest, she sighed. "The world needs him..." Her nose wrinkled as she held back the sob that tightened her throat. "They need him and I was the only person who could make sure he was alive for them."

His arms tightened at that, his face burying in her hair. "And I need you."

She balled his shirt up under her hands. "Ollie..."

"I know..." His eyes fell shut. "It's _beyond_ the wrong time, but... You asked."

She sniffled, unable to draw herself away from him, despite now knowing that fallen hero or not, this man that she'd laid her trust in, that she held in such high respect, had somehow, at some point, opened his heart to her enough to risk the world. She should pull away, she should remind herself that her husband wasn't even cold in his grave, but she was alone and lost and really, he was all she had left now. And whether it was wrong or not, she wanted him there, needed him to be.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there, embracing each other in silent understanding, but eventually, when the pain had receded some, he loosened his grip and leaned back enough to see her. "I want to get up," he said simply, the honesty showing in his dark eyes. He cupped her cheek, his thumb wiping away the dampness of her cheek.

Squeezing her arms around him, she nodded. "Then I'll help you."

She wasn't sure what the future held for either of them, but she knew, at least, that they had each other. And if nothing else, they could begin repairing themselves and what was left. So perhaps he'd fallen, but the hero was still present and while she wasn't anywhere near ready for what he so desired, she wouldn't turn her back on him. He would get up, she'd dust him off, and they would right all that was wrong. As long as they had each other, they could and would go on.


	90. I Got You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had shed all too many tears in her lifetime…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #024 - Tears

She had shed all too many tears in her lifetime. They poured silently, ran quietly, drowned her in their soundless, endless fall. She felt broken, alone, empty, and all the same she was angry. At him, herself, all of them. She wanted to point a finger at one certain person but couldn’t decide who. Jimmy? Clark? Lois? Oliver? They played their parts, some more than others, but in the end the shame felt more her own than theirs. And now here she was, without any of them, and nothing but her regrets to keep her company.

There was knock, a phone ringing, but she ignored it, she didn’t move or answer or reply. She let it continue, watched the sun rise and fall, wondered if heaven was real in her most philosophical of moments. She was sure she stunk, a shower not high on her list, and her stomach was tight with hunger pains and yet she resisted. Her eyes were dry now, caked with exhaustion and screaming for elusive slumber. She’d cried herself to sleep off and on only to wake in a panic, eyes wide and searching for danger. Davis lurking in the darkness, Jimmy asking her why, _how_ she could do this to him. But even as she meant to force them away only to find herself alone, she rather wished they were there, even angry and vengeful as they might be. At least then there was someone there, someone to place the blame or accept it from.

The days melted into one and before she knew it, she couldn’t tell night from day, Monday from Friday, or anything in between. There was a shadow at the window and for one startling moment she hoped it was a burglar and upon seeing her he might simply end her misery. As soon as the thought entered her mind, she called herself a coward for even thinking it and immediately disliked the very idea that she could so easily give up. Was it easy though? Really? After all that had happened, all she’d seen and done, could she really say the journey here was easy?

No.

Never.

The window rose and a leg appeared but all thoughts of death or murder or redemption soon fled. Green leather lined the second leg that appeared and the long body that followed. He stood in full Arrow regalia and while she wanted nothing more than to roll over, away from him, she couldn’t muster the energy. She didn’t ask why he was there, didn’t ream him out for the clichéd use of her window. Instead, she simply turned her gaze away and ignored the intrusion.

Not one to be overlooked, he sighed. Without reason or explanation, he crawled into bed next to her, lifted her prone body up and placed it on the other side of her bed as easily as if she weighed nothing at all. And then, with all the gentleness of someone who cared, he cradled her close and rocked her. “I got you,” he said against her hair and though she meant to yell at him, to scream that he had no right, instead she breathed a sigh of relief. Her eyes fell closed, a few stray tears escaping, and then she relaxed, let herself warm in his embrace. She would cry and she would rail against him tomorrow, but for now… For now, she would let herself be held and healed and she would appreciate it while she could, while she let herself.

He wouldn’t leave in the morning, wouldn’t give his excuses or blame himself like Clark would. He would be there, he would accept her anger and hatred, take it as she blamed it all on him and refused her own part played. And then he’d pick her back up as she fell apart once more, willing to put her back together until she was able to do it herself. It wasn’t pity or guilt that kept him, she knew. Because while she’d been fighting her own fight and hiding her secrets as he too had his own, a friendship and trust had built. It may be a little worse for wear and they were nowhere near best friends, but… it was a start.


	91. The Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day, we’ll look back on this and know it was a necessary evil...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #025 - Growth

“I’m tired of tiptoeing, Sidekick.”

She turned slowly, her back rigid, her stance stubborn. His abrupt arrival was really no surprise. He’d never been one to call ahead in the past, so now should be no different.

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” She lifted a mocking brow. “Didn’t even know you knew how…”

His lips pursed, eyes darting away in an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty. “Listen, Chloe…” He shrugged his shoulders. “I… I want to… apologize for… the part I played in all of this. I…”

She watched him struggle for the right words; some part of her rather enjoyed his discomfort.

He wouldn’t look directly at her; he was doing a good of job of faking it but she knew he was actually staring just past her shoulder.

“Oliver,” she interrupted. “You killed Lex… You were willing to kill Davis…” His face fell, wincing with… What? Regret? “But you didn’t kill Jimmy,” she finished, shaking her head as she sighed. Her arms crossed over her chest as if to keep her emotions at bay. Her shoulders lifted, her expression not quite forgiving but not damning either. “You were only doing what you thought was right…” Her eyes fell. “Mistakes make us human… And I’ve made my own fair share.”

All was silent for a moment, the both of them taking in her words and the ramifications of such honesty. Neither of them were in the clear, they’d both done things, said things, that couldn’t be taken back and now… Now they were the fallen, alone and uncertain once more.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?”

She looked up, her brow furrowed with confusion. And then it dawned on her; Clark. “Yeah…” she breathed, her eyes blinking wildly at the tears. She laughed, short and wrought with pain and anger. “You’d think he’d stick around, right?” She shook her head. “Not in his master plan, I guess.” Her jaw clenched as she forced herself not to cry. “As usual he takes all that’s happened and blames it on himself… Decides what’s best for everyone involved and then…” She trailed off, turning her eyes away.

He crossed the room slowly, as if unsure if he should approach or not. She wasn’t sure if she even wanted him to. But then his hand was on her chin, turning, tipping and they were face to face, eye-to-eye. “I… I haven’t been the best hero…” He licked his lips uncomfortably. “But… I wanna be better… I _can_ be better and… And I’d like to you to be there for that…” He stared searchingly. “You probably don’t trust me and… I don’t even know if I trust you, but…” He sighed. “I’m willing to try to… again. And I won’t leave you.”

A promise, a certainty, but was it true?

She stared at him. Funny how a hero didn’t change in appearance when they fell from grace. As if she expected him to suddenly sprout devil ears or wear a sign that said “I fucked up… Royally.” But he was the same man with the same sincere brown eyes and stoic expression that haunted his handsome face. He was by no means the best of men she’d known and now she couldn’t even say she was ranked amongst the best of women. They were both in the wrong and standing here, in this place Jimmy wanted her to call home, some part of her wanted to disregard any chance of redemption, feeling his blood on her hands thicker than any other. But here she was and here Oliver stood and he was offering her a chance, a friend, a partnership.

“What do you say, Sidekick?” His hand fell from her chin, held out as if waiting to be shook, a deal sealed. “Be my Watchtower… Help me save the world.”

She looked at it and while she felt as though a hand (Clark’s? Jimmy’s?) was trying to hold her back as punishment, she reached forward, took his and shook. “It’s the least I could do,” she murmured, brow knotted.

He drew her nearer, kept hold of her hand tightly. “The least would be to let this all be in vain.” He half-smiled, reminiscent of the good man she’d once known. “A few mistakes don’t change you… If anything, we’ve both grown, hopefully for the better. And we’ll use this… We’ll learn and we’ll do better next time.”

So earnest, trying only to be the hero the world deserved.

She grinned lightly. “In this second chance of ours, could you play Sidekick while I don the leather?”

He chuckled. “Much as it pains me not to see that come to fruition, especially the leather part, I don’t think I’d make a great Watchtower.”

She cocked a brow. “Well, admittedly, you’re a little too tall for my heels.”

He smirked. “And I don’t have the legs for pencil skirts either.”

Her head bowed, a smile turning up her mouth.

As their hands fell, bound together still, she felt relief and a sense of rightness once more. “You think we’ll be okay?” she asked, although she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

He grinned down at her, warm brown eyes wielding the same sincerity of once upon a time. “Better than okay.” He squeezed her hand, nodding thoughtfully. “One day, we’ll look back on this and know it was a necessary evil.”

She exhaled, accepting this as truth. There was much to do, much to learn, and many more obstacles to overcome, but… they would conquer. The fallen would rise and redemption would follow.


	92. Time Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon Clark’s return he finds not all is as he left it.

The last thing Oliver expected to see when he came around the corner was the ever-innocent Clark Kent pacing back and forth before the door. One year and three months Clark had been out of action; searching for Lois and forgetting any ties to earth-bound friendships. Oliver wasn’t sure if he wanted to welcome his old friend back or slug him in the face. Given the fact that it would likely hurt him more than Clark, he decided to approach the situation cautiously; as was his nature. However, the closer he got the angrier he became. Fifteen months without word and Oliver had been the one to pick up the mess in Clark’s wake.

“Boyscout,” he called, interrupting Clark from his inner-monologue.

Turning toward him quickly, Clark stared wide-eyed at Oliver. “What are you doing here?”

Cocking a rather mocking brow, Oliver smirked. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Glancing at the door in a less than subtle way, Clark shrugged. “I thought I’d…” His eyes darted away in self-recrimination and Oliver wasn’t going to soothe away any of his doubts.

Oliver snorted. “Bare soul, get a little pity and return things to their usual state of ‘poor alien me’?”

Clark frowned, eyes narrowing indignantly. “I didn’t come here to argue with you… In fact, I didn’t know you’d even be here.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t know a lot of things.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared unrelentingly. “That happens when you disappear for more than a year.”

He sighed, head falling forward with dutiful sorrow. “Time passes differently there… If I’d known it had been that long—“

“You’d what?” Taking a meaningful step forward, Oliver forced Clark to look at him. “You left, that was your choice, and as far anyone else knew when you came back you weren’t going to be the same Clark that everybody knew and loved.” Smiling sarcastically, he looked around. “Been a year and it looks like you’re still the same. Groveling at the feet of someone who’d give their all for you only to have you turn your back on them. Again and again.”

Frowning, Clark shook his head. “Chloe will understand. She—“

“Oh, I know. She _always_ understands. For reasons I’ll never get, she forgives you every time you screw up.” Shaking his head, he laughed irritably. “I used to hate that. Because for the rest of us to get any kind of leeway, we had to actually work for it.” Spreading his arms out, he leaned forward with a face of raw determination. “I fucked up and I paid for it, heavily. It took me months to get her to talk to me again and when I did, you can bet I appreciated it.” Eyes narrowing, he stabbed his finger at her door. “But you’re gonna walk in there and give her that puppy-dog face she knows so well and she’ll hug and forgive you like always. And things will go back to normal for however long until you have another of your epiphany’s and leave her in the dust.” He glared darkly, standing straight with rigid formality. “I’ve wiped away enough of her tears in this last year. The last thing I’m about to do is let you hurt her again.” Staring at him searchingly, Oliver said succinctly, “Make her cry again and I’ll invest every dime I have in kryptonite.”

Jaw clenched, Clark stood stoically silent.

Shrugging his shoulders and returning to the lighthearted Oliver Queen most people knew him as, he smiled at his old friend. “If we’re all cleared up here…?”

Clark gave a stiff nod.

Oliver reached over to pat Clark’s shoulder in a show of friendship that while dim, was still there. “Nice to have you back, Boyscout.”

Without another word, he dug a key from his pocket, unlocked the door and swept inside Chloe’s apartment, closing it behind him.

Clark stood bewildered in the hallway, not quite sure how to take in what just happened. He deserved the anger and the reservation on Oliver’s part, but he hadn’t expected such staunch support on Chloe’s behalf. Ever curious, he turned toward the apartment, squinted his eyes and let his super-hearing reach out toward the people inside. When all he saw were moving skeletons he drew back his senses until the people inside were as clear as if he were standing next to them. 

Stepping out of the bedroom, Chloe looked as beautiful and warm as ever. “Hey,” she greeted Oliver, her face lighting up.

Grinning far more sincerely now, Oliver walked in her direction. “Sidekick.”

She rolled her eyes at the familiar nickname. “You’re early.”

“I prefer eager.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Whatever for?” she teased, lifting her blonde brows.

Grin softening to that of unadulterated affection, he reached for her, drew her in close to him by her hips and leaned forward until their foreheads pressed lightly together. “Long day.”

“Isn’t it always?” she murmured.

His hands lifted, burying in her hair and drawing her head back slightly until they were eye-to-eye. “When I’m with you, time flies, unfortunately.”

Reaching for the lapels of his jacket, she tugged and held on tight. “Better make the best of it.”

His mouth curled before he nodded agreeably and ducked forward to press his lips to hers. A soft moan escaped her as her body arched forward with abandon, aligning with his. Arms falling around her, Oliver stroked her back and cupped the nape of her neck as they traded long kisses and nibbled each others lips tenderly.

Clark drew back so quickly his sight strengthened enough for him to see the pounding of their hearts, in sync with one another and pumping endorphins throughout their bodies. He could see their brain cells firing excitably and their lungs working hard to keep up as they ignored air for lengthy kisses that left their lips raw. More than that, he could hear their reactions to each other so loudly in his ears it was downright explicit. The breakout of goosebumps across Chloe’s skin, the tightening of Oliver’s spine as he fought for control, the gasping breaths each of them made and even the rustling of clothes as hands slid up and down bodies. He forced it all away and found himself pressed against the hallway wall, panting as he shook his head to get rid of both the knowledge and the vision of their relationship.

Oliver was right, he realized sadly. He’d returned thinking that everything would be just as it was when he left. Time had moved slowly where he was but quicker where he wasn’t and those he’d left behind were forced to move forward without him. He shouldn’t feel upset, he chose to leave, but he couldn’t help feeling alone and unwanted now. It was that thought that brought about clarity. How must Chloe have felt when he’d disappeared on her like he had? During the hardest time of her life, she was left to her own devices with no best friend and no cousin to help her. And so, taking up the role Clark should have, Oliver had stepped forward. And from what he had told him, he’d had to work hard to get Chloe’s trust and affection, but in the end he had earned it in a way Clark hadn’t.

In time, he hoped to get back his best friend, but for now he would let her live her life as she chose. He wouldn’t disrupt it with his presence and he wouldn’t expect more of her than he deserved. At the very least, he knew she was in good hands until she was ready to forgive him and he was ready to forgive himself.


	93. Justice and Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With reflection comes truth, with truth comes clarity, and with clarity two people may just mend themselves and each other.

_“When’d you become one of the bad guys, huh?”_

It kept repeating in her head, over and over again, like the never-ending song that wouldn’t let her rest. _Her?_ The bad guy? There were so many things wrong with that statement it literally tore her up inside. Her whole life had been spent trying to find the truth of things, to bring justice to those who deserved it. And for what? To make one wrong move and be labeled the very thing she fought against time and again? And _him?_ Who was he to lash out at her?

Pacing, she chewed her lip viciously, balled fists at her sides clenching tightly as if to wring his neck. And he would deserve it, too! After all that had happened, his part in the less-than-stellar-heroics of 2009, he had no right to call shame down on her head. She’d been doing what she thought was _right,_ what she thought would help others. It wasn’t as if—

She stopped suddenly, brow furrowing.

But that was just it, wasn’t it?

What was right to one person might not be to another. He’d lectured her not a few weeks prior about how the death of Lex Luthor, at his hands no less, was a favor to the world. And she hadn’t disagreed; couldn’t, really. But all the same, she wanted to rebel. Death was death; murder was murder. And justice… it was never black and white, much as so many of them wished it could be. Lex was dead. Davis was dead. _Jimmy_ was dead. And she stood angry not at Lex, her lifetime rival, a man who’d forever be the beginning and end to all evil; even in death he managed to play a part in the roles of lives wishing they’d never met him. Part of her blamed Davis and whatever it was that made even the kindness in him dark. And then Jimmy, her quirky husband who seemed to stand on the outside of her life, pleading for her to let him in. There were a million different things that could have been done differently but when it came down to it, they hadn’t been. Life was as it was, as she made it.

Her cousin was missing, her arch-nemesis dead, her best friend off to rid himself of human emotion, her husband was buried six feet under, and… And what? What was there now? Anger. She lived, thrived and breathed it in. Retribution, pain, vengeance and blame. But who was it really directed at? Much as she wanted to say Oliver she hadn’t said one word to him since that fateful night. He’d told her, he’d warned her so seriously that she couldn’t save Davis. And she hadn’t listened, _wouldn’t_ listen. But he’d trusted her, hadn’t he? When he reached out to stop her from going to the man she thought at one time she could love even more than Jimmy and she touched him, pleaded silently for him to understand, Oliver had. With all of his heroic nature going against him, he’d let her _try_. And when it blew up in her face he was the one to drag her away from it all, only to risk the world so he wouldn’t hurt her, even knowing what she could be unleashing on them all.

But still, all these months she’d blamed him for it all.

Her – a bad guy. _Never_.

But was she _truly_ a good guy? Were any of them, really?

She sighed, her fingers rubbing soothing circles against her temples.

Every ounce of anger slowly drained from her, leaving her in a boneless heap of sorrow. Two months with nothing but anger to take refuge in and now she didn’t even have that to fall back on. She fell to her knees, buried her face in her hands, but she didn’t weep, didn’t cry or sob or beg for a different outcome. Instead, she breathed in, centered herself, blinked back the stinging of her eyes and told herself that now was when she’d take hold of her destiny. No more holding back. Maybe she was alone, maybe those she’d loved and trusted weren’t there, but what good was she doing here, away from it all?

She may not be a good guy or even a bad guy, but damn it that didn’t mean she’d stop doing whatever she could to be what she knew herself to be. A justice-seeker; truth, above all else.

There was ringing; her Watchtower comm. It hadn’t made a sound since before Jimmy and Davis and the whole debacle. But now, as if it’d heard her thoughts, it rung shrilly, demanding attention.

She rose from the ground, adjusted her clothes, and walked slowly toward her desk. Plucking the ringing earpiece up, she held it in place. “Watchtower,” she said, voice level, deadly, serious in her profession.

“Wasn’t sure you’d pick up,” Arrow’s reply came through clearly, an edge of surprise lacing his tone.

She rolled her eyes. “Then why’d you call?”

“Curiosity.”

“It killed a cat, you’re not far off.”

He laughed deeply. “Is that a threat, Sidekick?”

A pang in her chest reminded her of what it was like to banter; it seemed like ages ago. “Are you scared, Arrow?”

“Knowing you as well as I do, I wouldn’t want to incur your wrath,” he stated simply and after a long pause added sincerely, “And I hope I haven’t.”

Had he called just minutes ago she’d be tearing him a new one and making sure he felt every ounce of misery she’d fed off of these last couple months. But now, she couldn’t. While she’d blindly blamed him all this time, reality was that he hadn’t come away unscathed. He may have played the uncaring hero who did it all for the betterment of the world, but she’d seen the sorrow and regret in his eyes.

“That depends on whether or not you’ll have coffee on when I get there.”

She could practically hear his smile as it curled his once stoic lips. “Two months without word, I was beginning to think you’d handed in your hero status.”

“You didn’t call,” she replied easily enough.

“You weren’t ready.”

She flinched but the truth was obvious enough. “And how do you know I am now?”

He paused for only a moment of contemplation. “Because much as you don’t want to admit it, you and I aren’t so dissimilar, Sidekick… And I figured if I was starting to recover, maybe you were too.”

It was rare to get such blatant honesty from a man who kept his truth close to heart, but she heard it clearly in his voice now. “And how is your recovery coming?”

“Slowly… but surely.”

Turning, she rested her hips against her desk, her shoulders slumping slightly. “It’s not easy,” she murmured with more emotion than she cared to show at the moment.

“My mother had a saying…”

Her brows rose; his parents were a subject never shared.

“What’s easy is never remembered and has no bearing on your life. But what you have to work for shows in every fiber of your character.”

She smiled slightly, sadly. “And what is my character? For that matter, what’s yours?”

“That’s just it; we haven’t finished working at it yet.”

She nodded to herself. “Do you think when we do, we’ll be the good guys?”

He sighed with the same heavy responsibility she felt day in and day out. “I think we’ve labeled ourselves enough for one lifetime. For now, for a while even, let’s just be us… Whoever we are.”

She grinned, blinking away appreciative tears. “I think I’d like that.”

“Good. And is this you that I don’t quite know yet interested in a late cup of coffee and a few files worthy of your skills?”

She sniffed in soft laughter. “I think I can make some time for that.”

“You’ll have to, I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Rolling her eyes lightheartedly, she shook her head. “You going to send your Queen helicopter over with strict orders for the pilot not to leave without me?” she teased.

“No. But you should know better than most than I’m incredibly persistent.”

Before she could reply there was a knock at the door. “Hold on.” Padding across the room, she tucked her hair behind her ear and reached out to unlock the three deadbolts lining the side of her door. As she opened it she was greeted with the smirking visage of the one and only Oliver Queen. He closed his communicator with an audible click and then stuffed his hands in his pockets in a rare display of discomfort.

Lifting a brow, she leaned against the frame of her door. “How’d you know I’d say yes?”

He shrugged. “I came prepared with various groveling techniques.”

“Oh yeah?”

“First I considered numerous gifts, ranging from a lifetime supply of coffee to the top-of-the-line in computers… Then I considered making a very public, very embarrassing apology. I also wrote a few thousand emails that might make you forgive me, or in the very least stop sending your SPAM in my direction.” He cocked a brow. “Don’t think I didn’t know that was you.”

She remained facially stoic but laughed inwardly. All right, so what little revenge she had taken was in the form of Penis Enlargement ads that he likely didn’t need but could at least bring a short smile to her lips on the rare occasion she hassled him these last couple months.

With a quirk of his mouth, he continued, “The list goes on. But then I realized that most of those things don’t have half the heart in them they needed so instead… I thought I’d come see you and tell you personally that I’m sorry for what happened and my part in it and I hope that as much as it has changed both of us, it won’t change the friendship and trust we were building together.” He stared earnestly at her. “You’re one of the few people in this world that I would trust with my life and I’d like to remain the same for you.”

Licking her lips, she nodded, blinking her eyes rapidly to relieve the stinging. “You have pretty good timing,” she admitted gently. “Any earlier and I probably would’ve kicked your arrogant, heroic butt.”

He grinned slowly. “This mean you’ll gimme another chance?”

“Only if you promise to do the same.” Holding out her hand, she looked up at him with sincere hope. “A blank slate, fresh start and every other clichéd beginning there is.”

Taking her hand, he held on tight and didn’t let go as quickly as was custom. “For the record… you were never a bad guy. I just didn’t want to see you walk the same path I was and I could see you heading in that direction.”

“I know… I just realized that and you know… Maybe nobody is as good as we want to be. But it’s the trying that makes us better.”

They stared at one another a moment, taking in the sincerity and truth in one another’s words before finally he broke the seriousness with a grin. “How about that coffee?”

“You’re buying?”

Drawing her out of her apartment, he slung an arm around her shoulders. “I think I can spare the money, but only if you enlighten me to exactly _what_ is so great about this almond mocha you like so much…”

Grinning widely, she snugly wrapped her arm around his waist. “Almond mocha with extra whip, Queen, get it right.”

“My apologies,” he chuckled.

“Fair warning, I’m about to blow your mind.”

“Of that I have no doubt…” he murmured genuinely. “If there’s anyone capable, Miss Sullivan, it’s _you_.”

Lifting a brow, she smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one.”

“Good. Because leather or no leather, I can still take you.”

Oliver smirked. “Is that a threat?”

With a wink, she told him, “You better hope you never find out.”

Laughing, he squeezed her shoulder and directed her down the hall toward the elevator.

With the rage left behind her and the sorrow slowly ebbing, Chloe was on the mend. And with a friend there to help her along, one as much in need as she was, she had a feeling that good things were on the horizon. Regardless of titles like good and bad, they were heroes in the making and she knew better than anyone that the two of them had it in them to be amongst the greats. They may not save the world from all that plagued it, but they sure as hell would die trying to. Just him and her, Chloe and Oliver, Green Arrow and Watchtower, a couple of justice-seekers that weren’t incapable of mistakes but had learned from them instead. And if the truth was out there, they would find it.


	94. Sufferable Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why kill your enemy when you can make them suffer tenfold by aiming for their heart?

_They were everywhere._

Enemies by the dozen. Faces he hadn’t seen in years, faces he’d seen all too recently, faces he wished he could forget. They surrounded him, mocking smirks permanently etched across their faces; victory shining bright in their eyes. He didn’t have enough arrows to take them all down, but God willing he’d try. There was a mocking clap from behind him, he whirled instinctively.

Lex smirked at him, all too smug for a man who should be dead. In fact, _was_ dead. Oliver had seen it done first hand. But then, what was so surprising about Lex Luthor living again; he was a master at deflecting death. Lex clasped his hands together, nodding them at Oliver as he shook his head.

“Let me guess, you’re counting how many arrows you have and which of us to kill first. Take out the strong ones so they don’t get in the way. Hand-to-hand combat might just get you out of this.”

Oliver merely lifted a brow; he wasn’t about to admit that was _exactly_ what he’d been thinking.

“That’d be too easy though, wouldn’t it Queen?” Lex circled him, bald head bent at an angle as he surveyed his prey as if ready to pounce and tear his organs from his body in one fail swoop. While Oliver would never outwardly admit any sort of admiration for the man, he did have a way with creating fear in others. “The hero wins again, saves the world and all is right…” He tisked, eyes falling. “But where would be the fun in that?”

It was all Oliver could do not to show any outward reaction. Names listed through his mind a mile a minute; anybody he’d been in contact with lately that would be a target. There were only a handful or so he would truly do anything for, whatever the length, but he was certain in his capacity to hide those close relationships to his heart. A man unguarded was a dead man; and those he held dear were as good as rotting just the same.

But when they dragged her out, kicking and screaming and giving them hell for their manhandling, he swallowed tightly, his body rigid.

How?

The question lodged in his throat, stung his eyes and twisted his gut so tight he swore the grinding of it echoed throughout the room.

Nameless, faceless goons carried her forward and held her out for Lex’s perusal. He circled her too, as if she was yet another course for the night, a feast of epic proportions for a man like him.

Livid, Oliver clenched his jaw tight. If he’d learned anything it was never to show weakness, it only begot more agony.

Reaching out, Lex caught a tendril of her blonde hair in his fingers. “I can see where the interest lies…” he murmured in that bored drawl of his. “If it weren’t just for her outer beauty, one could easily be captivated by her wit and never-ending curiosity… Hmm, but she does come with a few drawbacks.” He cocked a brow. “She’s nearly been assassinated as much as I have. And that isn’t as easy as I make it seem.” He smirked caustically. Locking his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck he yanked her head back. “What do you think, Miss Sullivan? Will he play the arrogant hero that cares little for you in hopes that I’ll doubt myself? Or…” He peered smugly at Oliver. “Do you think he’ll offer himself up to save you?”

“Go to hell,” she spat through clenched teeth.

He merely laughed. “Been there, done that.” He shook his head. “No, if anything the experience taught me just how precious life really is… And you know what happens when I get that way…” He smirked devilishly at her. “I make everyone else utterly miserable.”

“Why not skip the rerun then and get to the point?” she snarled.

“So impatient,” he chastised, lifting his gaze to Oliver once more. “You’d think she’d be more wary in a room full of her lover’s worst enemies. But no… She never could hold her tongue to save her life.”

Oliver’s teeth ground together but he was hell bent on showing no fear or anxiety. “Was she really vital to this plan? I’m surrounded already, there’s no exit strategy, I’m well aware of my circumstances and how this will likely play out so why is she necessary?” He cocked a brow. “Little overkill, Lex. Next time, stick to one dastardly plan and don’t overdo yourself. It reflects poorly on your evil mastermind status.”

Lip curling, Lex shook his head. “It would if you weren’t as predictable as you so easily are. You see, where others have failed I will not. Last man standing, as per usual.” Waving his arms around, he motioned to the many eager enemies that surrounded him. “You’re trapped, unable to escape or call for help. Not an easy feat but one I’ve accomplished. Now, however, we go about breaking you.” He lifted a finger as if to quiet everyone for his seemingly important note. “Breaking you is not as easy as it sounds. We could torture you for hours, days, weeks even.” He shrugged the seriousness of it away. “Or… we could torture the only person you truly love until you literally beg us to kill you so you don’t have to watch it anymore.” He grinned sadistically. “Granted, it’s not quite as intricate as my usual plans, but then… Love is a many splendid thing.”

“Don’t say a word, Oliver,” Chloe told him stoically, her eyes staring at the ceiling with resolve.

“Ah and the hero in her speaks out.” Lex glanced around at his admirers as they chuckled, amused by the situation. “No doubt she’ll last awhile, tell you to look away, put up a brave front. But it’s her _screams_ that’ll get to you… You won’t even have to see her as we flay her skin from her body.”

Dread mixed with vomit as it crawled up from the recesses of his stomach to burn at his throat.

Lex walked circles around him, listing every cruelty imaginable that he’d do to her so vividly Oliver could already hear her sobbing in agony, could imagine the tears spilling from her eyes. And he could do nothing but watch. Already he was scanning the building again, there had to be a way out. He could get her out of here; he had to. He wouldn’t let this happen to her. He wouldn’t sit by and _watch_ it happen to her.

There were no windows, no doors. Hell, even where they’d brought her from the walls sealed once more. No escape. He couldn’t remember how he got here; what had he been doing? What led him to this creaseless room? A dome of security with no exit or entrance; the perfect place to house a person so capable of getting out of any and every cinch.

“Tell me…” Lex asked, lowering his voice to a mocking whisper. “Late at night when you were holding her and promising to love and protect her… did you ever imagine you’d be the reason she had her organs methodically plucked from her body?”

His breath escaped in a shudder and rage began to well up inside him. He dearly hoped nobody could see the way he shook but as he curled his hands into fists to keep them from noticeably quaking, he was certain they could.

“I bet you had dreams that one day you’d marry her… Give her the white picket fence and the secure home with 2.5 kids and a mini-van…” Lex looked him up and down, sneering. “You’d play heroes at night, prowling the cities to keep them safe and then go home to your cozy little love nest. Am I right?”

That’s exactly what they’d been doing. Night after night, week after week, for years now they’d created a life for themselves in the background, behind the scenes. If they weren’t enjoying the comfort and sweet seduction of their newfound relationship, they were out scouting Metropolis or whichever city they happened to be in to keep everyone out there as safe as could be. If she wasn’t in his ear as Watchtower, guiding the resistance against evil, she was at his side, whispering snarky sweet nothings. And how he’d dreamed; of a lifetime like this. Of his beguiling Watchtower forever there to guide his arrow, to keep him on his toes and remind him of the humanity he’d once struggled to keep.

Once he’d been lost and she found him, yanked him up out of his pit of despair, dusted him off and told him to get back to the heroics. He fought her on it, refused to don the green leather again. But earnest in her trust, she argued just as tenaciously. Until one day he was the Arrow again and he was calm and collected, comfortable with his duo-identity. She picked up her ear-piece, found them missions and directed their lives onward once more. And what had he given her in response? This. Death. _Torture_.

He’d promised her perfection. He’d held her in his arms and kissed her heart, hoping it would always beat for him. He’d heard her joyful laughter and cradled her when she cried. He’d explored every inch of her body until they were exhausted beyond measure. He knew her feet were ticklish, that she loved it when he played with her hair, that she would forever deny she snored, even lightly. He knew her eyes were myrtle green when she first woke up, jade when she was aroused, and a glittering emerald when she was truly happy. They were near teal now though; absolute heartbreak.

“Strip her. And ready the exam table,” Lex called out, voice completely void of emotion.

“No!” he shouted, lurching forward, knocking Lex out of the way as he wrapped his arms around her tensed body. “I’m sorry.”

Arms pulled at him, angry voices yelled to separate them. The crowd closed in on them; enemies near and far, all wanting a piece of him, all wanting a part in his misery.

“I’m so sorry,” he rasped, burying his face against her throat.

“Oliver,” she whispered.

“I won’t let go.” His arms gripped her tight. “I promise.”

“Oliver!” he voice grew loud.

Hands pushing at him, pulling and dragging him away.

“Ollie!” she cried.

His eyes flew open and panting breaths were dragged into his lungs. He searched the room rapidly, looking for the enemy and finding none. It was just a dark bedroom, dimly lit by the moon filtering through the window. She was kneeling next to him, staring down in concern. Smiling gently, she stroked his brow. “It was a nightmare,” she murmured, rubbing his chest. “You were kicking so bad, you nearly threw me off the bed.” No condemnation, no anger, just soothing dulcet tones and warm hands.

He could feel the sweat clinging to his skin and his heartbeat banged heavily in his chest. Reaching for her, his hand gripped her tight before dragging her down across him. Burying his face in her hair, he held her close and breathed her in, waiting for calm to return.

“You okay?” she asked.

Instead of replying, he closed his eyes and stroked her back methodically.

“Cheater,” she murmured, eyes growing heavy. He’d learned long ago that caressing her back in just the right way was a quick fix to getting her to sleep. And now, with sleep always calling her name, her stomach round with their baby, she was helpless to his hands. “Tell me the truth,” she slurred, fighting off sleep.

“Just a bad dream. It’s nothing,” he promised, kissing her hair. “I’ll get over it.” His hand fell to rub her distended stomach. A smile escaped when their son kicked for him.

“It was Lex again, wasn’t it?”

He didn’t answer her, instead kneading her sides and smoothing his palms up and down her back until her faint snore met his ears. Cradling her carefully, he laid her down next to him and wrapped himself around her. There would always be fears, he would always wonder who out there might use her against him. And with Connor coming into the world in a few short weeks, yet another person he loved could one day be used as a tool of vengeance. But if there was one thing he knew, it was that whatever happened, whatever came for them, he would face it and he would fight it with all of himself. Nobody was taking his family from him; not Lex Luthor or anybody who planned to follow in his stead.

Oliver Queen would fight to the bitter end and as his son kicked once more, he knew he too would grow up with that same prerogative, just like his parents.


	95. Patiently In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She thinks she's using him, but he’s loving her until she loves him back.

_It's about the nights we spend locked up inside your room_  
_It's about the morning; breaking always just a bit too soon_  
_It's about the way you're scared._  
_Baby, just maybe I'm aware._  
_This is what you need._

 _Cause…  
_  
_Every time you walk in the room,_  
_Can't help myself I want to be with you._  
_With a mic, quick, check, one... two_  
_Singin' out my lungs, just to reach you._  
_I'm alive._

_And I keep my cool one more time.  
And you just keep on walking by..._

_ Walking By _ _–_ **Holiday** **Parade**

* * *

_Legs tangled. Fingers buried in hair, skin, sheets. Cries. Whimpers. Moans. Whispered names. Fluttering eyes. Sweat dampened skin. Heat, everywhere. Scalds his skin, tightens, scores down his back. Lips meeting, teeth gnashing. Laughter, light, sweet, melodic. Tired. Soothed. She lets him hold her after._

Oliver glanced up as she stepped into the room, all professional and clean-cut. She allowed a brief smile at her surrounding team before getting down to business. She held up the remote, brought up their next target and went into Watchtower mode. She didn’t look at him any more or less than the others. What happened the night before – all the nights of before – was forgotten and discarded. He remained stoic, always. He wouldn’t let her see that it hurt because if he did, she might run. And he’d worked too hard to get it to this point to let her get away now.

“I want eyes on him, 24/7. He plays clean but there’s absolutely no way. Find me evidence and do it yesterday.” She turned back, lifted a brow and smirked. “Any questions?”

Bart’s hand lifted.

With a humorous roll of her eyes, she shook her head. “No, I’m not going out with you Friday.” Before he could say anything, she added, “Or any other day of the week.” She looked around at the gathered League. “Any questions vital to our mission?”

Nothing.

“Good.” Turning around, she lifted up her file folders. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Make me proud.” And with that, she saluted cheekily and made her way toward the elevator.

The others stayed around awhile, discussing modes of transportation and who was going where. Bart raided the fridge and called out his preferences from the comfort of his seat atop the counter.

Oliver left them to their conversation and followed after Chloe, who was still waiting for the lift to arrive.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes.

“Hey,” she greeted, brow furrowing before she returned to staring at the cage doors. “You need something?”

He stared a moment, before giving his luck a try. “Dinner. Tonight.”

Entirely too brightly to be believed, she answered, “Can’t. Busy.” With a ding, the elevator opened and she stepped inside. Sending him a half smile, she assured, “Rain check.”

Wasn’t it always?

And with that, she was gone.

He wouldn’t see her for two days but when she arrived, she reached for him with all the passion he had pent up inside him.

_“Please.”_

_Arms around his neck, supple body pressed tight to his. Searching lips searing his skin, exploring, leaving her imprint everywhere. Clothes shed, tossed, torn, thrown away and forgotten. Her on her knees, his pants dragged to his ankles. Her hands and mouth making him delirious until his knees visibly shake. He wants to say no, wants to ask for more than this, but he doesn’t. Her eyes, so wide and pleading. He can’t walk away, can’t push her away. He wants her. He_ loves _her. He drags her from the floor, cradles her against his chest, takes her to the bed and exhausts her until she can do more than hold on to him, tight and wanting._

_“I’m sorry.” He knows. He accepts. Closes his eyes, buried his face in her hair. Prays it was different._

_Morning comes too soon; she’s crawling out of his embrace. He pretends to sleep, doesn’t stir as she dresses in the ripped remains of her clothes. She kisses him goodbye lingeringly, nuzzles his nose with hers before she’s gone. And he’s left with nothing but her scent still around him and the memories of her hands, her brilliant smile, those adoring eyes of hers staring up at him like he hung the stars._

When he saw her next, she was like a different person. Still quirky, genius Chloe, but her smile was smaller, less inviting. She went over the success of their last mission, congratulated them on work well done and even kissed Bart’s cheek just to soften her latest refusal for a date. As the others filtered out, she was still there. He was confused. She never stayed longer than necessary and never has she initiated anything directly after the League had left. She took to showing up when she couldn’t handle her emotions anymore; when the heartbreak got to be too much.

He waited impatiently for something to happen; the clenching of his chest worried him. Was this when she would break it all off? End what little he got of her already? He couldn’t handle that. The only thing holding him together were the brief nights of refuge she allowed him to have. A lifetime without her body tight against his, without breathing in her scent as he drifted to sleep; he couldn’t take that. His guard lifted; his spine straightened for abrupt dismissal.

She didn’t say a word for what seemed like an eternity but averaged to as little as ten minutes. Finally, she crossed the room, sat at the corner of her desk and stared up at him. “What’s been happening… How I’ve been treating you…” Her gaze turned away. “I can’t apologize enough for that.”

He managed a smile. “I wasn’t pushing you away, Sidekick.” He desperately hoped he didn’t sound as worried as he did. He was trying, really, to accept things as they were.

“I know…” She smiled sadly at him. “You’ve been incredible to me and I’ve… I’ve been _using_ you.” Her brows knit, eyes falling heavily. “You were just…”

He couldn’t stop himself; he reached for her, gathered her in his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin. If the only thing he could do for her was be physical comfort, he’d accepted that. Did he want more? Hell yes. He wanted it _all_. Had for longer than Jimmy had been cold in the ground. And that knowledge ate at him. He held his tongue when she married the wrong guy, he felt the grief and guilt when that same man died and he tossed away the leather just as soon as he realized his heroics had taken a swan dive off the Queen Tower. And she’d picked him back up, despite the part he played in all of it. More than that, she shared her body with him when he was a helping hand in shredding her heart.

“I’ve got you,” he told her, closing his eyes tight.

“That’s just it,” she cried, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t have me… But you _do_.”

His heart panged.

“I should hate you… I should _blame_ you… But I don’t…” Arms tightening around him, she pressed her face deeper into his chest. “I _don’t_.”

He didn’t know what that meant; didn’t know where things would go. But that night they hadn’t done anything more than hold each other, clothes intact. And in the morning, she didn’t run away. She lingered in his arms, cuddled up beneath the sheets, and let herself sleep in. She didn’t hide her smiles after that, didn’t brush him off any longer. And maybe this was the beginning, maybe now she wouldn’t walk by him but stop and acknowledge him and what he had to offer. He would wait, he would see, and he would let things progress as they must. However long, whatever it took, he would be there. She would love him as he did her; she was already halfway there, she just didn’t know it.


	96. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver realizes just who he turns to in the worst of times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #027 - Faith

When everything had settled down and he had a moment to breathe, he realized something far more telling than he’d thought at first. In the midst of trouble, when his life and others had been on the line, his one and only phone call had been to _her_. Of all the people in the world, he chose Chloe. The one woman he’d been sure he’d forever disappointed with his lackluster heroics playing a part in her ex-husband’s death. On uncertain terms, running away from all that she now encompassed, when it came to the worst moment in his current life, he’d picked up the phone and dialed _her_ number.

Lois with her determination and her close ties to military help, Bart with his ability to get around the world in mere seconds, Clark’s impenetrable being, he had at least three people who could’ve gotten him out of there as quickly and as quietly as possible. But no, instead he called _her_. She who he’d once thought had turned dark, who would hide a monster that would willingly destroy the world if given the chance. She who he so quickly judged, feeling disappointment he’d never known before. But it was enlightening then, to know what he did. When push came to shove, when failure seemed so certain, he had done what she _knew_ he would do. Not only call but react. When he didn’t get a hold of her, he did what he knew instinctively to do; survive, _fight._

And wasn’t it kismet that she be the one to pick him up? After all of his fear and anger had been unleashed that fateful night that everything fell apart and he wanted to blame her, he wanted to remind her of what part she played. But he couldn’t. So he blamed himself and he stripped himself of his calling and all that it entailed. And when she so easily accepted him back, so willingly fought for him to keep going on as the hero she knew him to be, he denied it still. But she didn’t, wouldn’t.

Such faith, such loyalty, as he’d never known or seen before. Even when he fell apart and couldn’t trust _himself_ , let alone others, she had shown him the truth of it all.

She trusted him, she’d said it herself, just not quite _that much_. And now, with his duo identity back in place, he had a new destination in mind. He would return their once strong friendship to its rightful place, where their trust was equal. Because where she couldn’t quite put all of herself into him, he had already put his entirety into her. And he would change that; he would help her just as she helped him. One day, when she was as enlightened as he, that’s when he would be at true peace. Green Arrow would have his Sidekick, his Watchtower, and with her trust came her heart. Something he most coveted already.

Soon, he decided, peering out at the busy Metropolis landscape, his eyes falling to the colorful windows of her sanctuary, where she no doubt toiled away in her endless search for justice.

Soon.


	97. Moving Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s moving day for a certain couple and Lois isn’t happy about it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #029 - Day

As four men rivaling the height and build of Clark Kent moved back and forth from the penthouse high above down to the moving truck below, Lois became and more upset. The more boxes that were loaded, the farther away she could see them going. Arms crossed atop her chest, she glared menacingly at the unsuspecting moving men, who continued to give her a wide berth. She didn’t care if they thought she was crazy, she was standing her ground on this being a _bad idea_.

“I’m going to have to pay them double if you keep looking at them like that,” Oliver’s voice could be heard chiding from just behind her.

Turning slowly, her eyes chilled further. “This is all _your_ fault.”

Holding his hands up innocently, he shook his head. “Should I call my lawyer or just plead guilty?”

Rolling her eyes, she huffed with irritation. “If you had just kept your big fat mouth shut…”

Amused, he cocked a brow. “It was really more of _her_ idea, I only agreed.”

“And that was just one of many in the numerous mistakes you’ve made since you two cooked up this _very bad idea_.”

Mimicking her stance with his arms crossed over his chest and a goofy frown on his face, he shook his head. “No… Despite how many times you say that, it _still_ seems like the right thing to do…” He blinked at her. “Wanna try again?”

Blowing out a sigh of exasperation, she turned away from him. “Explain to me again why you need to move back to Star City?”

“Besides the fact that it’s where I actually _live_?” he teased, smiling lightly.

She glared. “It’s _not_ where my little cousin lives.”

“From personal experience, I’ve noticed she doesn’t like to me called _little_.” He lifted a shoulder. “Or short… In fact, we should just stay away from the entire _height_ subject entirely… just in case she overhears you.”

She wasn’t amused… Okay, she was, a little, but she hid it by pursing her lips and thinning her eyes at him. “She’s still my baby cousin and I don’t want her living anywhere that doesn’t involve me catching a cab to her place.”

“Technically, you _could_ catch a cab to Star City, it would just eat up both your and Clark’s savings…” Funny how he assumed Clark would fork over _his_ savings just because _she_ wanted to take a roadtrip…

“Will you stop?” she sighed. “This isn’t funny.”

Sobering, Oliver nodded. “All right… What do I have to say to make you see reason?”

Turning to him, hip cocked to one side arrogantly, she tipped her head back and stared at him with a smug grin. “Easy. ‘I’m not moving, Lois. In fact, me and Chloe have decided to take up permanent residence here in Metropolis. And when we have millions and millions of cute blonde babies, we expect you to be able to come over anytime you want to see them. Because we’ll actually be _close enough_ for you to do that.’ There. Now say it.” She glared. “And mean it.”

Scratching his jaw thoughtfully, Oliver nodded slowly. “Okaaay… I’m not sure I can promise a million-plus babies… Pretty sure it’s not even physically possible. And… Yeah, no, I can’t really agree to… _any_ of that. But,” he said, eyes widening as if he were about to comfort her, “Should we ever have, you know, say _any_ kids… I’ll send the jet. Just for you! Fully fueled.”

She grimaced, shaking her head. “Yeah, no deal, Queen. Try again.”

Sighing, he threw an arm around her shoulder. “Listen Lois, I know you’re not exactly thrilled, but please, could you at least _try_ to look happy for us? She’s gonna be here any minute and I don’t think she needs to see your frowning face given we’re leaving in less than an hour.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “Fine.” Fixing a fake smile to her face, she looked up at him with annoyed eyes. “This good enough?”

“Could you get rid of the malice that threatens to kill me in my sleep?” he asked, brow cocked.

“No. ‘Fraid not,” she said with mock-cheer.

“Good. Great.” He looked up then, a genuine grin crossing his face as a bright blue cab pulled up to the curb and the current star of their conversation appeared. Hopping out, she smiled warmly at them and dragged a blue shopping bag out of the seat with her. Paying the cabby, she passed by the moving men with a nod before coming to a stop in front of Lois and Oliver.

Oliver slid an arm around her waist and bent to kiss her temple. “I’m gonna go see how much progress has been made,” he murmured before leaving her and Lois alone to talk.

Chloe watched him go and while Lois wasn’t exactly ecstatic to admit it, they really were a cute couple. Which she unfortunately noticed several months ago and had been the one to push them together in an effort to end the (so-called) unrequited thing going on between them for waaay too long.

When Chloe returned her attention to her older cousin, Lois really (pathetically) tried to pin a smile on her face.

“Wow… That was… Sad,” Chloe told her, eyes widening with emphasis. “You feeling okay?”

Exhaling heavily, Lois’ shoulders fell. “Yeah, I’m just buckets of sunshine right now. My best friend and sister is moving far, far away to start her happily ever after… I’m not even going to be able to mock your eye-sex anymore!”

“Yeah, shame, really…” Chloe smiled, reaching out to hook her arm with Lois’. “Hey, it’s not _that_ far away. I’m not leaving the country!” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Not this week anyway. We weren’t planning to head to France until next month…”

“Ha ha, very funny,” she bemoaned, rolling her eyes.

Chuckling, Chloe squeezed her arm comfortingly. “Come on, you’ll be busy with work and Clark, you’ll hardly even notice I’m gone.”

Lois’ eyes widened. “Oh I’ll notice! When Clark does something dumb, like… disappear suddenly and not return for hours or days, who am I going to rant to? Huh?” She shook her head dramatically. “And when some bizarre thing happens here and I’ve got no clue about what it is, who am I going to call when I need back up or a very good reminder that gunshot wounds hurt, so no, I shouldn’t go digging in that very dark, very dangerous alley?” Throwing her hands up, she sighed. “And who’s going to eat Chunky Monkey with me when I’ve given up on men for the umpteenth time and am considering becoming a nun?” She turned, staring at Chloe seriously. “Do you want me to be a nun, Chloe? Really? Because it’ll happen!”

Chloe covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing. “Right, well… Those are all very… impossible, but well thought out reasons for me to stay, but…”

Deflating, Lois frowned. “But you’re not, are you?”

She looked up at her sadly. “No. I’m sorry. I just… I love Metropolis and I love you, but… It’s not my home anymore.”

“And Star City is?” she asked skeptically. “Have you even been?”

“Yes,” she replied, amused. “Many times. Ollie and I are moving in to his childhood home, which by definition should really be called childhood _mansion_.” Her eyes widened for emphasis, “We’re talking butler service here, it’s insane.”

“Gee, and I thought it wasn’t for the money,” Lois muttered sarcastically.

Chloe shrugged the barb off completely. “We both know he could be poorer than dirt and I’d still leave here with him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered unenthusiastically, “you guys are sickeningly in love… Rub it in, why don’t you?”

She snorted. “You _do_ remember setting us up, right?”

“If you haven’t noticed, it wasn’t one of my brighter plans!” she exclaimed, motioning to the moving truck.

“On the contrary,” Chloe disagreed. “It was brilliant.”

Lois stuck her tongue out childishly before returning to glaring at the moving men.

Chloe waited for the inevitable, and it wasn’t long before Lois freely admitted, “I’m really starting to regret giving my go-ahead on you two…”

“Why, because I’m moving? Shouldn’t that be a thumbs up on your matchmaking skills?”

“Yes and no… I guess I just thought…” Glumly, she glanced at Chloe uncomfortably. “I dunno, that you guys would get married, have a bunch of kids, name me the cool god-mother and live happily ever after fighting baddies from your penthouse.”

“Not to point out the fault in your plan, but… Oliver’s penthouse only has _one_ bedroom… and the last place I want our kids is anywhere near a balcony _that_ high up,” she said, unconsciously glancing up at the very tall Queen skyscraper she stood before.

“Yeah, keep rubbing it in.”

“Look…” Chloe turned, wrapping her hands around Lois’ crossed arms. “Metropolis, the paper, all of that… it’s _your_ dream now, Lo. It’s…” She smiled genuinely. “It’s all yours and Clark’s now. You get the curiosity that kills and the top-of-the-line spy glasses, mail-in-order not needed, and I completely back you on this. All of it. You deserve this life. And I know, once upon a time, I really wanted it. But, I know where I’m meant to be now, and I know who I’m meant to be _with_ … And none of that is in Metropolis. Because this is your city, not mine. Okay?”

Lois stared at her for a full minute, just taking in the truth of the situation before finally replying, “And what? Leave you to your own devices in Star City? Puh-lease, you’ll be calling me for help in less than a week…” Her expression was smug, but behind all of that it was obvious that was what she _hoped_ was the truth of it.

She grinned. “I’m only a phone call away.”

Lois pouted. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky he’s rich otherwise your long distance bill would be ridiculous!”

Chloe laughed. “Comforting.”

“If you think I was smothering when you were in Metropolis, wait until you’re out of it,” she said smartly.

“You weren’t smothering,” she assured. “You were the best cousin I could’ve asked for.”

“Yeah, yeah, cue the waterworks.”

Chloe smiled and though Lois was won’t to admit it, her eyes stung a little with unshed tears.

“Hug?”

Sniffing, Lois consideed shrugging it off, but in the end she didn’t really get a choice. Taking the lead, Chloe reached up and dragged her purposely stoic cousin down into a tight embrace.

“You’ll call if you need me?” Lois asked, leaning her chin on Chloe’s shoulder.

“You’re number two in my speed dial.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Lemme guess, Oliver’s number one?”

“Uh, no, he’s three…” she admitted, drawing away with a slight shrug.

Lois’ brow furrowed. “Clark then?”

“Four.”

“Okay, I’m lost. Who’s number one?” she asked, shaking her head slowly.

“Bart,” she said, lifting a shoulder. “I love you guys, but… he can get me my favorite coffee in three seconds flat and not spill a drop… No matter _where_ I am!” she reminded enthusiastically.

Lois laughed, finally feeling a little relief from the sadness that had been chasing her heels ever since the happy couple had announced they were moving. “Not to mention he can get you out of a cinch quicker than the rest of us,” she added.

“Well, yeah,” she admitted, smiling sheepishly. “That too.”

Sighing, Lois stuffed her hands in her pocket. “So this is really it… You’re leaving.”

Checking her watch absently, Chloe nodded. “Yeah, if we’re going to stay on schedule, we’re leaving soon, actually…”

Nodding, Lois turned her face away to stare at the moving truck once more. “You know, long-distance relationships aren’t as bad as people think…”

“I hope you’re talking about me and you and not me and Oliver.”

Grinning, Lois shrugged a shoulder. “I have no preference.”

“Liar.”

“If I told you he had a really bad habit of clipping his toenails in bed, what would you do?” she wondered, thinning her eyes. Admittedly, he had never done that, but really, she was a little desperate.

Laughing, Chloe shook her head. “Thank you for the warning, but I think we’ll survive.”

“Okay, I won’t say anymore, I’ll just leave you with that very disgusting habit to mull around your entire flight… Remember, I have a couch should you ever need it.”

“A couch? Really?” Chloe cocked a brow. “You won’t even share your bed with me?”

“Well, I tried to warn you before you left,” she said with a shrug. “For not listening you get the couch.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Oliver walked out the open doors of the building and with an all-too-happy grin, rejoined them. Meeting like the lovesick couple they were, their arms enfolded each other into a familiar embrace. While Lois might dislike acknowledging it, sometimes, she couldn’t say they were bad for each other. If nothing else, they understood one another in a way nobody else could. Sometimes, she even caught them talking silently, all with their eyes and their body language. It was like full conversations were done with hands and smiles and the complete faith they shared in each other. It was annoying, but… something to be envied, all the same.

Like now, she was looking up at him with that big, warm Sullivan-grin of hers, green eyes caught completely by his, and he was matching her with one of his true-Ollie smiles. Not that fake, charismatic grin that so many other women swooned over. He rubbed her side unconsciously, his thumb tickling her ribs while she leaned against him like a pillar of unbendable support.

“You ready?” he asked her, his voice low, as if they were in a world all their own.

“For the plane or the adventure?” she asked, quirking a brow.

“The adventure’s already begun, Sidekick, catch up,” he teased, squeezing her hip.

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “With this move, I suggest you become the Sidekick and I become the leader. After all, the guys listen to me better.”

“Yeah but I look better in leather.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t be so quick to judge, you haven’t seen me in leather just yet.”

His eyes heated and for a moment there was that silent conversation where Lois almost felt like she’d walked in on them going at it like bunnies. The heat between them was overwhelmingly powerful. Smiles turned from sweet to smoldering and hands that had previously been lightly rubbing were now seductively caressing. Their bodies magnetically turned toward each other until they stood hip to hip, wrapped up in only each other.

“Hey, sex it up on your own time,” she exclaimed, garnering their attention. “I want to say my goodbyes without you two slobbering all over each other.”

With an amused grin, Oliver turned them back around. “For your benefit only, Lois.”

She smirked. “Now… I know I already got my hug, but that was before and I want another.” Without waiting, she dragged Chloe out of Oliver’s arms and hugged her tight once more. “If he ever breaks your heart, in any _way, shape_ or _form_ , call me… I’ll bring the chunky monkey and enough torture devices to make sure he’s a falsetto for life.”

Stepping back, Chloe nodded slowly. “I can’t guarantee I’ll ever take you up on that offer… _But_ , it was unusually thoughtful, so thanks.”

“And you,” Lois stared up at Oliver with a glare before sighing and relenting as she opened her arms and hugged him too. Quietly, so Chloe couldn’t hear, she whispered, “Take care of her. Please.”

“My number one priority,” he promised.

And she knew it was true. While justice came before all else and the end justified the means for the both of them, she knew that he would let it all go in a heartbeat if it meant taking care of Chloe, and she would do the same for him. _That_ was why she hadn’t sabotaged the move anymore than glaring and a few hopeful suggestions. Because much as she didn’t want her cousin to leave, she had to let her go. Chloe’s life was beginning, the one she was meant to have all along, and it wasn’t to be in Metropolis. It was wherever Oliver was, wherever their lifestyle took them.

So stepping back, she wiped the tears away before they could fall, gave herself a little shake of reality and then smiled at them. “Okay, so… This is _goodbye_.”

“Only for now,” Chloe reminded.

“Yeah, Thanksgiving isn’t that far off,” Oliver assured with a shrug.

Lois glared. “Yeah, neither is Labor Day,” she told him, pursing her lips.

Chloe laughed. “I have a feeling we’re not gonna be missing each other long.”

Lois grinned smugly. “You got that right.”

The alarm beeped on Oliver’s watch and he glanced between Chloe and Lois. “It’s time.”

“Well, wait, what about Clark?” Lois suggested, suddenly feeling like she really didn’t want to let them go _just_ yet.

“He’s meeting us at the airport,” Chloe soothed. “It’s okay, Lo. I’ll call you when I get in and when things calm down, we’ll throw a house-warming party just for an excuse to have you come over.”

Nodding, she sighed. “Okay.”

As the town car pulled up to the curb, Oliver took Chloe’s hand and they said their goodbyes one last time before walking toward their ride. Just as she was about to climb in, Chloe stopped. “Oh! Wait!” Turning, she hurried back over to Lois. “I almost forgot.” Lifting the bright blue shopping bag up, she handed it to Lois. “For you.” Without another word, she turned back around and returned to the car. Oliver climbed in next to her and rolled down the window, smiling as Chloe leaned across him to blow a kiss and wave at her favorite cousin.

Sadly, Lois watched them leave, waving until the car was out of sight.

With nothing but the moving men finishing up behind her and the bag hanging heavy in her hand, Lois started walking. All around her people continued on with their usual lives while she already missed her cousin. Taking a seat at a familiar coffee shop, she ordered her usual and a cinnamon bun larger than her head to sate her sadness. Pulling the red paper tissue out of the bag, she reached inside to see what Chloe had left her with. Her brow furrowed as she drew out a wide phone the size and width of her hand. The screen was large enough she could watch movies on it and not have to squint. As if it knew she’d touched it, it roared to life and a video started playing.

“Hi Lo!” Chloe’s cheerful voice said before her face appeared on the screen. “Talk about top-of-the-line, huh? This baby isn’t even available until next year. So, forget about faceless phone calls, on this we can talk face-to-face, for as _long_ as you want. Not as great as side-by-side, but I think we’ll survive.” She grinned. “I know you’re not happy about us moving, but at least this way you’ll know no matter how far I go, I’m always with you.”

Lois smiled, sniffling at the sweet tenderness that filled her up.

“Oh, and one last thing. I’m number two on your speed dial, any time you need me. Number one is Bart though, because I figured there are just some days you’ll need me in the flesh. And as long as you give him a bag of burritos, only ever from Senor Mario’s, he’ll have you here before you can call him names!” With a laugh, she waved at the screen. “I love you and I’ll talk to you seen. Byyyye…”

As the screen went blank, Lois sat back in her chair and sighed. So they were gone and she missed them, but all was not really _over_. She still had her cousin, even if she only came in screen-form, until she made a trip to Senor Mario’s at least. With that thought in mind, she picked up her plate of over-sized cinnamon bun and dropped it on some nameless person’s table. “Dig in,” she told them absently before leaving the café. Pressing replay on her new phone, she grinned. Life may be changing, but at least for two people it was only getting better. And she could live with that.

But, because she was, well, _her_ , she had to do one last thing. Looking through her short list of contact numbers, she found Clark and dialed. He didn’t pick up and she figured he was already saying his goodbye to Chloe and Oliver. So when the answering machine picked up, she sing-sang, “Smallville, guess what parting gift _I_ got from the dynamic-dating-duo? Be envious! If you’re lucky, I might let you look at it from afar.” Just as she was about to turn the corner, something suspicious caught her eyes. “Hold on, I think I might’ve just seen our next big story… Put on your big-girl panties, Clark. We’ve got a live one.”

Pushing end, she got back to what she did best, and really, what made her happy. Just as soon as her partner in crime caught up to her, she’d have their next big headline. Lois Lane – Pulitzer Prize winner – she liked the ring of that.


	98. What Was, Is, Will Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were innocent once…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #030 - Innocence

He remembers a time when they were innocent; when being a hero just meant donning some green leather and snarking off to the bad guy before leaving him tied up, waiting for the cops. He remembers a time when she didn’t have a dead ex-husband, when there hadn’t been a rampaging alien beast relying on her and her tireless heart to keep his murderous tendencies at bay. He remembers a time when he thought he could live happily, loving her cousin for a lifetime. When Lois’ sarcasm and wit, her strength and beauty, could keep him infatuated longer than any woman before her. When making her happy and loving her had been all he wanted. He remembers pretending that she was just a friend, just someone he admired. That her skill and her courage were traits he needed in friends and teammates. He remembers telling himself that he _wasn’t_ jealous of Jimmy Olsen and his ability to not only _get_ the girl, but marry her too. He didn’t attend, he made his excuses, but deep down, his chest was split open. He remembers when she trusted him completely, when she didn’t second guess his actions, when she would’ve told him everything just because she knew he was a vault and he would only take care of her. When there was shame in her eyes that he had crossed the line neither of them had been willing to cross before. He remembers when the ends _didn’t_ justify the means; when it was just about doing and being good. He remembers when things were black and white, before grey interceded and called attention to every little detail.

He prefers to forget how lonely it was, how hard he had to pretend he was content with his life. He doesn’t think about the mornings he woke up and wasn’t happy with the day ahead, when it had just been about being the billionaire playboy they expected of him. He hates to remember how he fell, as a hero, as a man; how his failure was strong enough to allow thoughts of suicide consume him. He forgets the days before, the mornings and nights he didn’t have her in his arms. He erases any memory of any lips but hers, thinks only of how sweetly she tastes, how warm he feels when he’s kissing her. He leaves the past in the past, the women, the drinking, the partying ways; they’re so distant now, he doesn’t even consider it part of himself.

He looks forward to a future with her in it, with her big grin to get him through a bad day and her arms to embrace him when he feels like falling. He stares ahead and dreams of a time when he’ll marry her, when the tabloids will no doubt criticize their relationship and they’ll go on despite it all. He can already tell she loves him; that she thinks of the same things. When the sun falls and she’s lying naked in his arms, she stares at him when she thinks he’s fallen asleep. She traces his brow and his lips and his neck, memorizing him as if she wants to know what he looks like now because she’s already ahead in the future, planning their lives.

He knows he’ll mess up, there will be times he wants to hang up the suit and hand in the bow, and she’ll be there to talk him out of it. She’ll be the voice of reason against his doubt, the hand to help him up and dust him off. She’ll be the hero in his heart, urging his face out of the gutter.

They were innocent once, a lifetime ago, and today they’re far from it. But they’ve prevailed, they’ve gotten back up to face their demons, and together, they’ll make it through.


	99. Soul-to-Soul Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was all she wanted. To be a little shelter and comfort to the man who usually offered it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Song** : [Homeless Heart - Jennette McCurdy](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEs2R8K619s)  
>  **Prompt** : #031 – Music

_Lonesome stranger_  
_With a crowd around you_  
_I see who you are_

 _You joke, they laugh_  
_Til the show is over_  
_Then you fall so hard_

 _If you're needing_  
_A soul-to-soul connection_  
_I'll run to your side_

* * *

 

She watched from afar, hidden in the comfort of a darkened corner, avoiding the drones that milled around her. He wasn’t so lucky; instead being drawn right to the center of it. He put on a good show, she’d give him that. The Queen-smile, fully of charm and charisma, snared hearts and so easily tricked the others into thinking he was one of them. But she could see the strain of it around his eyes, the pinch of his lips when he let the smile drop for a fraction of a second. He made them laugh, kept the charade going so well she might’ve believed it if she didn’t know him better. But that was just it, while all these people were so certain they knew this man in front of them, they had no idea. People were everywhere, vying for his attention, and still he looked so lonely. Probably why he was drinking as much champagne as he’d already consumed; he must have one very nice buzz going.

Hours passed and he did his part, he stopped when people wanted it of him, to chat and listen and commiserate on things he had no ties to any longer. Traveling, all of which he did for work and the League, couldn’t be a point of exchange. They were off enjoying the spoils of being wealthy and without worries while Oliver had the strain of the world on his shoulders. But he nodded anyway, agreed when it was warranted and moved on to whoever else wanted to be seen with him. When he tugged at his tie as if it were a noose around his neck, she intervened.

He was on his way to the buffet but someone waved and his shoulders fell just an inch, what little he could show of how tired he was. Gown swishing around her legs, she crossed the room so quick it could’ve rivaled Bart. She pretended to bump into him, not surprised when he caught her easily and they whirled in a small circle. He hid his surprise at finding her there easily. “You okay?” he asked, an amused smile quirking his lips.

“Nothing a little dancing couldn’t cure,” she replied, putting on a show of flirting for the on-lookers.

Taking her hand, he glanced at the couple that had been waving him over and motioned that he’d only be a minute. “You’re a life saver, Sidekick,” he murmured before and leading her out to the dance floor.

“So I’ve heard.” She twirled easily into his arms, their twined hands lifted into the air while her free palm lay on his shoulder and his cupped the small of her back.

The orchestra played a slow tune, so they swayed and moved into a two-step.

“So?” he wondered, glancing around the room briefly before turning his attention to her. “What brought you out here to mingle with the stuffy and oversensitive?”

She grinned. “Thought I’d check up on you, see how you were faring.”

“So it wasn’t just to get a new dress?” he teased, holding her out for playful inspection. “Ace job, by the way, you look stunning.”

If it wasn’t for the tender sincerity in his eyes, she might’ve snarked back, but he was being the Ollie she knew him to be and giving her an honest compliment.

“What, this old thing?” she smarted.

He chuckled. “Just found it in your closet, right? Stuffed somewhere in the back?”

She shrugged. “Of course.”

“You should bring it out more often,” he suggested.

“Yeah? Like when I’m locked away in the Tower for hours on end? Maybe do a little dancing while I’m leading you and the boys through dangerous warehouses?”

His brows lifted comically. “If you can multi-task that well, all the power to you.”

She laughed. Despite how awful his night had already been, she was glad he could still enjoy some lighthearted banter in the end.

With a grin, he drew her a little closer, embracing her in more of a hug than a dance. “Thank you.”

“I’m hearing that from you a lot lately,” she murmured.

He didn’t pull back, instead tipping his head to talk softly against her ear. “You have a way of showing up at just the right time and doing just the right thing.”

“One of my many skills.”

She could feel his grin.

Even as the song ended he didn’t let go, holding on through the next tune and avoiding the outside world for a little longer. She couldn’t say she minded.

 _When you're lost in the dark_  
When you're out in the cold  
When you're looking for something that resembles your soul  
When the wind blows your house of cards  
I'll be a home to your homeless heart

The warmth of his body so close was relaxing, comforting. Since Jimmy had died she couldn’t remember being this close in contact with anyone. Oliver was so much taller and broader, it felt like being swallowed whole. His bracing arm around her kept her steady, and despite the fact that they were just dancing at some gala, nothing that would involve danger in the least, she couldn’t help but link the shelter of his arms to his protective nature. In the worst of times, he would always be there to shield her from it. Whether he disagreed or not, he’d stand at her side. It was why she trusted him so much, why she was willing to step in when he needed her to. Clark didn’t get it, didn’t understand her loyalty to Oliver. But he didn’t know Ollie like she did, didn’t understand him the way she had. All Oliver asked for was truth, justice and loyalty, and she had that in spades, so she offered it up, knowing that he would give it back just as much.

It was in her nature to take care of the heroes she knew and so while this might not be her mission, she knew how he hated to step into the Queen persona, to become the ballsy billionaire with a background for being a womanizer. She knew the guy who fell hard for her cousin and wanted, more than anything, to have the kind of love his parents had. However, finding that when one was hiding a duo-identity and fighting crime at night wasn’t easy. So when he went out and he put on the Armani suit to play billionaire for the cameras, she kept an eye out. At first, it was just through hacking a few security cameras and keeping an eye on the soirees he was attending. But after awhile, she got tired of seeing that defeated and tired smile of his and now she had decided to step in.

Oliver Queen might be on the inside of these tight circles, but Ollie was on the out. She wondered how many people around her were putting on a show and then decided she didn’t care. Her only point of interest was the man currently holding her tight to his chest. When his fingers had started stroking her back, she didn’t know. Probably around the same time she began dragging her nails up and down the back of his neck. No doubt tomorrow’s latest rag paper would have a picture of Oliver and his newest score, but she didn’t mind. She could feel him relaxing against her, shucking off the weight of being who was expected of him. That was all she wanted. To be a little shelter and comfort to the man who usually offered it.

“How’d you find me?” he asked, not so much suspicious as curious.

“You’re not hard to find,” she replied. “Just had to look up the latest big-money fundraiser and I knew where to find you.”

He laughed shortly. “Not as mysterious as I thought I was, huh?”

Tipping her head back, she smiled up at him. “Not to me.”

He stared at her a moment, his own smile softening. Reaching up, he brushed her bangs behind her ear and tugged on her earlobe affectionately. “No… You’re the best secret keeper a guy like me could ask for.”

“That’s what my resume says.”

He cocked a brow. “Resume? You’re not offering your services elsewhere, are you?”

“And leave the all exclusive boys-club to its lonesome?” She snorted. “Not likely.”

“I think you’re forgetting Dinah,” he reminded, smirking.

“I like her,” she assured. Shrugging, she added, “But I guess I’ll always think of the team as just you and the boys.”

He nodded. “Eventually, we _will_ get bigger.” He looked down at her with a mock-serious expression. “You might want to acknowledge the others then, don’t want to play favorites.”

“We’ll see when we get there,” she replied, amused.

“Deal,” he agreed before tossing out an arrogant smirk. “Wanna kiss on it?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Cute.”

He winced. “I prefer handsome, debonair, anything along those lines…”

She looked around suddenly, brow furrowed before asking him sarcastically, “Did you want me to find someone to dance with your ego, I don’t think there’s enough of me to handle both of you…”

He grinned. “I’ll try to reign it in.”

Tugging her in close once more, he held her so tight she could bury her face in his neck and inhale that delicious scent that always enveloped him.

 _Open close me_  
Leave your secrets with me  
I can ease your pain

 _And my arms will be_  
Just like walls around you  
Come in from the rain

 _If you're running_  
In the wrong direction  
I will lead you back

A few minutes later, she could both see and feel the difference in him. He was thinking too much, she knew, because the weight of his past suddenly fell heavy on his shoulders. “You all right?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he replied, nodding slightly. “Just thinking…”

“About?”

He glanced at her, paused for a moment, and then spilled his guts. “A few months ago I didn’t think I’d make it this far… I gave up.”

“And just think, you would’ve missed out on this oh-so-exciting party,” she murmured back.

He smiled for her benefit but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey,” she said, reaching up to tap his chin and draw his gaze down to hers. “You’re not that guy anymore. We’ve all got a few free Go-AWOL cards and you played one, that’s fine. You’re back now and you’re doing what you were meant to.”

“Thanks to you.”

She grinned. “There’s that thank you again. You keep it up and I’ll grow an ego the size of _yours_.”

He half-smiled. “Sorry, I just… I don’t think you know how big a part you really played…” He stared at her searchingly, his brown eyes searing into hers. “I wasn’t just gonna pack in the gear, Chloe…” he admitted, regret lacing his voice.

“I know,” she told him, softly. “I saw the footage… I know about the suicide attempt, if you even wanna call it that.”

He stiffened momentarily.

“I get it.” She frowned. “I mean I don’t _agree_ with it, but… I understand why you felt you had to do it…” Licking her lips, she sighed. “You need to know that I wouldn’t’ve gone through all the trouble of saving you if I didn’t think you were really _worth_ it.”

“Why though?” He shook his head. “After Davis and Jimmy, I…” He swallowed tightly. “You should hate me.”

“I had as much to do with that as you did… I screwed up _big time_.” Her eyes widened for emphasis. “And you were trying to tell me that, trying to talk sense into me, and I still chose to do what I thought was right rather than what had to be done…” She shook her head, squeezing his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. It was a whole lot of bad decisions that all came together. It doesn’t mean that what you were _trying_ to do, who you’re _meant_ to be, is wrong. It just means that the responsibilities we have are a lot bigger than we ever thought and we have to be more careful in future.” She smiled comfortingly. “All right?”

His brows narrowed, lips pursing. “I think you’re giving me a lot more credit than I deserve.”

She grinned. “Modesty, Ollie? Is that really your forte?”

He laughed, lifting a shoulder. “Maybe not. And you’re right, I take a lot of credit for what happened. I don’t blame you, Chloe. You had your reasons and maybe I don’t always agree with them, but I _know_ you and I _trust_ you.”

“You’re smarter than you look then,” she replied snarkily.

With a chuckle, he leaned down to press a kiss against her forehead.

Eyes wide with warning, she told him, “Don’t you dare say thank you.”

Chuckling, he twirled her around to the brightly playing music.

 _Broken_  
Shattered like a mirror  
In a million pieces  
Sooner or later  
You've got to find  
Something, someone  
To find you and save you

When the orchestra took a break, they were forced to part and already the vultures that called themselves his friends were beginning to descend.

“So, how long are you going to torture yourself here?” she wondered, leaning against his side.

He grimaced. “The car I hired won’t be back for an hour.”

She grinned. “Good thing I brought my own car then, huh?”

His eyes lit up hopefully. “Are you here just to save me, Sidekick?”

She looked up at him. “My one and only mission tonight, Arrow.” She started backing toward the door. “If we leave now, they’ll all just think you got lucky. So don’t procrastinate here, Queen. It’s do or die… of boredom.”

Laughing, he nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist and sauntering toward the exit. “Technically, I am getting lucky…”

She cocked a brow up at him. “Is that right?”

Meeting her dubious face with a smirk, he replied, “I just left the most boring event of the year with the most beautiful woman in there, someone who not only knows me for me but was sensible enough to concoct an escape plan before coming to my rescue. Now _that_ is luck.”

Smiling, she rolled her eyes. “Keep those compliments up, Queen, and you might get even luckier.”

Grinning, he followed her down to her car, holding her door open for her.

Before she could climb in though, he touched her cheek.

She looked up at him, confusion in her eyes.

“You know, if we ever did…” He stared at her, any trace of humor now gone. “I wouldn’t take it lightly. I wouldn’t…” He sighed. “When it comes to you, I’d be all in.”

Her lips curled warmly. “I know.” Reaching up, she smoothed his green silk tie down. “You’re pretty far in already, don’t you think?”

He smiled, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I don’t wanna screw this up.”

“You’ve got two choices here,” she murmured, looking up at him earnestly. “Take the leap, head first, and trust that I’ll catch you, or walk away and don’t look back.”

A second, a fraction of, a moment caught in the blink of an eye, he made his choice.

Fingers tangled in her hair, he cupped the back of her neck, drew her forward and bent to meet her. Standing next to her car, with the rain just beginning to fall, outside of a building with people who couldn’t recognize him from a cardboard cutout, Chloe Sullivan and Oliver Queen kissed for the first time. And a man, once alone in a crowd, found the one soul he could truly connect to.

_I'll be a home to your homeless heart_


	100. Second Chance Coward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He foolishly walked away once, but he knew his mistake now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #035 - Act

Oliver Queen had never considered himself a coward… At least not until the day he and Chloe found themselves in a very spontaneous, very passionate kiss. And then he'd run off like Lois in the face of commitment. He was being curt with her, he knew that. He was avoiding the inevitable, he knew that too. But the night everything changed, he'd experienced something unexpected. Kissing her, having her wrapped tight in his arms, her body molded to his, there'd been a _spark_. And he didn't mean just sexually, although that was very much present too. Chloe Sullivan was a woman of many commendable attributes; she was intelligent, funny, beautiful, cunning, and had the ability to do what needed to be done in the face of whatever came her way. He'd never ignored that about her, in fact he admired it, but when he'd kissed her those things came into glaring clarity.

Since Lois and his doomed attempts at trying to restart a relationship that was meant to fail, he'd kept himself and the female species at a comfortable distance. He didn't want to be entangled, he didn't want to try again only to fall and know he had to give it all up again. He had too many secrets, too many flaws, and he wasn't willing to share himself and get hung out to dry. But the truth about him, his character, both good and bad, was already well known by Chloe. In fact, like no other before her, she knew him in a way he'd never expected of anyone. Which was why, when their lips met and he found himself reaching for her and holding on with a desperation he couldn't remember before, he knew that if he could love anyone and have them love him back as deeply and as reverently as he'd always wanted, it would be with her. So, like the coward he'd never thought himself, he walked away from it.

He wanted to blame it on the logical part of his heart escaping any chance of heartbreak and it was a good excuse, but the truth of it was he was scared. Scared of loving like that, of having what he wanted but held at a distance; scared of getting the happily ever after without some hidden agenda somewhere along the line. Honestly, nothing was free, nothing happened without some consequence. And he was certain that having what he so wanted would mean losing something of equal value.

Three weeks he'd put her off, avoiding any talk of what had happened, making sure to stay away from her when they were alone. He couldn't deny that when she was near the only thing he wanted to do was kiss her again. When he wasn't scouring the city for the bad guys, he was contemplating just how _right_ it would be to give in already. But he didn't, and despite how stubborn his heart was, his head was just the same. It was his head that came up with the plan to end it all for good; what fantasies he might have had with her and a future were to be doused and forgotten.

Dressed to the nines, he escorted a Brazilian model to the charity function he'd been invited to and wasn't quiet about it. She knew what he was doing even if she didn't acknowledge it and he assured himself that she too would understand what had to be done just as soon as it stopped feeling _wrong_. It wasn't all about that, however. He and the team were on recon with Victor doing a little hacking into the main system of Gloria Jamieson, who was hosting the event. They had their suspicions that her supposed late husband wasn't dead at all, and in fact running a covert and not quite kosher business behind the scenes. He watched from the sidelines as Bart and AC were able to distract the guards just enough to let Victor get past them. The hidden earpiece kept him updated on everyone's status so he turned his attention away from his two younger teammates and smiled at his date who was apparently telling some interesting tale that he hadn't heard one word of. His associates, however, were laughing brightly for her, even if they were only interested in just how nicely she filled out a dress.

"Holy Tuna, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" AC muttered under his breath.

"I think I just died a little," Bart whimpered. "Hell-o _heaven!_ "  
Oliver's brows furrowed.

"Should I be worried?" Victor asked quietly.

"No. You're fine," AC replied distractedly. "But I think bossman's going to have a heart attack."

Bart laughed. "Screw that, I call dibbs!"

"Do I _want_ to know what you're talking about?" Chloe's sweet voice came through his ear.

"As if you didn't know, 'Licious," Bart replied flirtatiously. "You are looking so _beyond_ …"

"Agreed," AC added supportively.

"Thanks boys. Now back to business."

"Soon as my tongue stops wagging."

Chloe snorted. "Always flattering, Impulse."

"Who's the stiff?"

"Be nice."

"Not us you should be worried about," AC said wryly.

She gave an amused sigh. "Eyes on the prize, boys. We'll talk about this later."

"Fine… But I want details."

With amusement, she told him sternly, "I'm not telling you the color of my underwear, Bart."

"You know me so well!"

Suddenly, he saw her.

His breath left him abruptly, eyes widening as he saw her turn in his direction even as her eyes strayed to the man at her side. Dressed in a flowing blood red gown that hugged her curves and flared out from her thighs to whisper around her legs, she was absolutely heavenly. Her hair fell in soft waves to her bare shoulders, glowing like spun gold. With little to no make-up, her smile was the main attraction and it drew him in like a moth to flame. She was always beautiful, but tonight she was stunning.  
  
And then he saw her date.

Tall, dark and handsome, whoever he was he looked at her like Oliver _wanted_ to. Hanging on to her every word, he laughed in all the right places and didn't hide his infatuation when he brushed her hair from her cheek and behind her ear. Oliver felt a pang in his chest, a churning in his stomach, and for a moment, everything felt dark. His jaw clenched painfully and with the insight of a man who'd just seen his future and walked away, he realized _exactly_ what he lost. And how much he wanted it back.

Through a mouthful of food, Bart's voice was low in his ear. "Huh… I think he's seen the light."

AC snorted. "Or at least stopped _pretending_ he hasn't."

Oliver's eyes flickered over to them as they stood next to the buffet and shook his head slightly when they threw him a thumbs-up. Great. His own cheering section.

"I've got the files," Victor interrupted. "Any chance you guys can stop gawking and get me out of here?"

"On it, dude."

Minutes later, they were all safe and sound and with a pat to his breast pocket, Victor assured him that the goods were in hand. Now, all he had to do was figure out how to clean up his own mess.

"So _that_ was what the fuss was about," Victor said understandingly. "Stunning as ever, Watchtower."

From afar, Oliver noted her appreciative smile before she returned her attention to her date, who was busy trying to feed her a grape from his plate of food. For an absurd moment, he couldn't help thinking that he bet she'd rather the strawberry, and a moment later she plucked a strawberry up to show her date as she shook her head at his offer. He grinned. Why, he didn't really know. It was stupid; it wasn't as if she knew what he'd been thinking or even that it was a sign in the first place. But it _did_ kick him into gear. He excused himself from his date, who was too busy regaling his associates with some other story that she barely noticed, and before long he was crossing the room to her, finally ready to act on the inevitable.

"Chloe," he said in way of greeting, coming to a stop in front of her.

She looked around as if she was surprised he was there, almost checking to see if _another_ Chloe happened to be inhabiting the area, and he regretted just how much he'd been ignoring her.

"Oliver," she replied stiffly, looking from him to her confused date.

Patting her date's chest affectionately, she motioned to him. "Troy, this is Oliver Queen, a friend of a friend."

He grimaced briefly at her description but nodded obligingly. He deserved that. "Enjoying yourselves?" he asked, lifting a brow.

"Yeah, yes, um, everything is great," Troy replied, babbling slightly. "Sorry, I just… I can't believe I'm actually meeting you. I read your biography in Forbes last year and you're net worth is like…" He blushed. "Sorry, again, I just… I'm gonna stop talking now."

Oliver smirked. "Don't worry about it. I know what it's like."

"Really? Because there aren't very many people richer than you…" Troy trailed off, eyes widening.

"True." He laughed shortly. He might not like the kid, for obvious reasons, but it was amusing to see him crack. "I meant more that I know what it's like to be in awe of somebody for a rap sheet and then to actually meet them and get to know the real person. It's…" He stared at her meaninfully, "Enlightening."

Unamused, she shook her head. "Until you realize they're not all their cracked up to be," she replied, pursing her lips. "That as much as they hide behind this veneer of confidence they're still some scared little boy that runs off at the first sight of anything _real_."

He nodded slowly. "Like anybody, it takes them a little while to catch up," he admitted. "Maybe they were scared, maybe they knew just how real it was and they didn't want to take the chance in case they ruined it…" He stared at her searchingly. "Just like they've ruined everything else."

Her brows furrowed, clarity dawning. "Comparisons shouldn't matter. What they did before they would've learned from and hopefully, they would know not to make the same mistakes… And even if they _did_ , if it was truly real then they'd know that they weren't in danger of screwing it up. Because she knows him, better than anybody, and she wouldn't _let_ him ruin it. Not when she was just as invested as he was…"

Licking his lips, he sighed. "And he should've known that. In fact, he does. Now. It just took a little… convincing."

She cocked a brow. "Really? And what was so _enlightening_?"

Stepping closer, he reached out, caught a tendril of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. "Faced with the possibility of losing her before he ever really had her, he realized just how huge a mistake he'd made… How much of a coward he was for ever walking away."

Expression softening, she reached up to straighten out the already perfect lapels of his jacket. "Maybe he's not too late… He's pretty good at convincing a woman he's sorry."  
Oliver grinned. "Very sorry."

Watching with keen interest, Troy lifted a brow. "Do you two always talk in the second person? I imagine that gets confusing."  
  
Chloe laughed, glancing at him. "No, we don't."

"Should I back away slowly now? Leave you to your tender moment?"

"It'd be appreciated," she replied, amused.

"And this is me leaving." Turning, he fled.

"I was expecting more of a fight." Brows furrowed, he watched him leave, asking, "Do I wanna know…?"

"He's a friend," she said simply. "He wanted to get in and mingle with the rich and famous and I needed a quickie date."

He cocked a brow. "So he wasn't planning on stealing you away from me?"

She chuckled. "No… At least, not that I know of."

"Then I won't have to scare him off, good. Seems like a nice enough guy." He smirked, his hand finding her hip and tugging her nearer. "Think I might get another try at this 'us' thing?"

Tucking her hair behind her ear, he cupped her cheek affectionately.

"No running away?" she wondered, brow furrowed with amused suspicion.

"I give you full permission to kick my ass if I do anything that stupid again," he swore.

Grinning, she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck. "I'll hold you to that."

He hoped she did. Because if he ever managed to talk himself out of something this right, he deserved it.

"Now that he's preoccupied with 'Licious, think I gotta shot with the Brazilian hottie?" Bart wondered, voice echoing in their ears.

Rolling his eyes, Oliver chuckled under his breath. "Have at it, Impulse."

With that, he bent forward. Fingers tangled in her hair, palms cupping her face, he drew her close.

"No going back," she whispered.

Lips curling with a smile, he nodded. "I'm looking forward."

Her eyes fell shut the moment their lips slanted together and he followed suit seconds after he saw sweet tenderness soften her face. She tasted vaguely of strawberries and champagne, their tongues sweeping together and tangling in a hot embrace of familiar comfort. Sliding a hand down her spine, he pressed the small of her back until she was so tight against him he could make out every curve of her body. Arms wrapped around his neck, she stroked his hair affectionately. Breathless, content, he wondered how in the world he ever managed to walk away in the first place. It wasn't a mistake he'd ever repeat.


	101. His Whole World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #036 - Whew

Chloe clutched her hands tight together to stop herself from wringing them. She'd finally stopped pacing the room as it was only making her dizzy. Her eyes stung from staring at the schematics in front of her for too long without letting herself blink. Anxiety wreaked havoc on her; her stomach churned, her lungs ached as she tried to breathe and felt as if there just wasn't enough air to sate her. Her entire body had been shaking since she found out.

"Watchtower to team, what's the status?" she asked, panic all too evident in her voice.

There was no immediate reply and that only served to worry her more.

"Getting impatient, guys. Don't leave me waiting here."

Finally, he replied. "Arrow to Tower, package in toe…"

A tremor of relief rocked through her. Her knees weak, she nearly felt to the floor, but managed to stay standing even as her shoulders slumped with overwhelming appreciation. "Is he okay?" she worried, eyes closed tight as she worked to inhale air.

"He's tired but he's fine," he assured, his distorted voice still soothing. "I'm looking at him right now."

"Bring him back to me," she demanded hoarsely. "Now."

"On our way home. Arrow out."

She heard his communication piece flicker out and then turned her attention elsewhere, eyes immediately falling on the team member she most trusted with this matter. "Impulse?"

"Yeah, _mamacita_?" he asked, his tone still rather subdued due to the situation they were in.

"Make them pay." Her voice shook with the agonized hatred she felt in that moment. "Nobody touches my baby and gets away with it. Do you understand me?"

He hardly paused. "Affirmative."

An hour later, her team was standing in the watchtower, a bundle of innocence fast asleep in Oliver's arms. Rushing across the floor, she dragged her son into her embrace, sniffling as he snuggled against her. Her heart hammered inside her chest, appreciation and relief reverberating through her entirety. Stroking his sandy blonde hair, she looked him over head to toe, making sure he was in one piece, exactly as he'd been when she dropped him off at school. And he was; he was perfectly fine. She swallowed back the sob burning her throat. He was back, he was okay, and she dearly hoped he was too young to remember any of what happened.

As she buried her face against his chest, she felt a hand rubbing her back comfortingly. She didn't deny him when he drew her into his arms and as easily as if she were as weightless as their son, hefted them into his arms. He walked to the couch, the clomp of his leather boots loud against the hardwoods. Cradling her in his arms, he murmured soothing words against her hair as she let emotions loose.

Connor didn't stir, at four years old very little could wake him up. She was careful not to squeeze him tight like she so desperately wanted to. Answering her phone that afternoon to find her son had been picked up from school and not by anyone she knew, she'd nearly had a heart attack. The team was on it before the mental breakdown she was on the verge of could impose itself and with the quick nature she'd afforded these last few years, Watchtower mode had kicked in. It took them mere hours to track down just who it was that had stolen her little boy and she'd sent the guys in immediately. No doubt a ransom would've been asked of them, but she wasn't waiting on that. She had the schematics ready and was pushing the boys out the door before any protests could be heard. Now, she knew she'd been right to do so.

"He's okay, we got him," her husband murmured against her temple.

She nodded but the fear she'd felt earlier still stung her chest. Burying her face in his neck, she let her shoulders shake tellingly as she cried with relief, still cradling him tight in her arms.

It was nearly an hour later, when her tears had led to exhaustion, that she was lifted up and brought to their room. He tucked Connor in next to her, covering him with their blanket and kissed her cheek before he left the room. The door was left ajar and though half asleep, she still heard him talking with the team.  
  
"How is she?" AC wondered.

"She'll be okay… She just needs a little time."

"We got lucky tonight," Victor reminded honestly.

"I know." She could see him pacing in the small space between the door and the jamb. "Things'll have to change… We need eyes on the school. And tomorrow, I'll be talking to the principal about his security detail."

"You called the cops? Explained the situation?"

He nodded briefly. "We're lucky nobody saw us in our gear… People get suspicious when superheroes take an interest in certain people."

"I wiped the video cameras just to be sure," Victor assured.

AC crossed his arms over his chest, grimacing angrily. "Wish I could've seen them up close though… They'd never think about doing something like this again."

"No worries there," Bart cut in, his face edged with anger now, a stark difference from his usual humorous self. "Trust me, dude learned his lesson."

Her husband stared at his youngest teammate a long moment. "She asked you to take care of him, didn't she?"

He nodded briskly. "All I needed was the go-ahead," he replied with a shrug. "I was happy to step up."

"You were careful he didn't see you?"

Bart smirked. "If I don't wanna be seen, I'm _not_."

"Good." Turning with a sigh, he rubbed his forehead. "It's been a long night. You guys should head home."

With short goodbyes they fled the apartment and Chloe waited for him to join her in bed. Stripping down to his boxers, he slid into bed next to her, wrapping an arm around her and their son. She watched as he ran his long fingers through Connor's hair reverently. "I don't know what I would've done…" He pressed his face to her shoulder. "If he'd been hurt…" He shook his head, his body vibrating against hers, his fear evident.

"I know…" she whispered.

The second she knew her son was missing, she had only one thought in mind. Whoever took him was going to die; and it wasn't an empty promise. She fully intended to make them pay for ever thinking they could take him away from her. They walked into _her_ life and thought to disrupt it, to take her little boy out of her arms and put him in harms way. That was not forgivable, under any circumstance.

"He was just sleeping… Curled up on some cot, thumb in his mouth…" He sighed sadly. "He barely moved when I picked him up. Just glanced at me, smiled, went back to sleep." There was pride in his voice, laced through the sorrow felt over the entire situation.

"He's strong, smart… He knew we'd come get him."

She felt his jaw flex against her neck. "I wanted to kill them… I wanted to give him to Victor and go in their and cut their throats myself." His arm tightened around her and she turned slightly to look up at him in their darkened bedroom.

"I wouldn't have blamed you…" Searching his eyes, she smiled sadly. "I wanted them dead just as much."

Pressing his forehead to her cheek, he sighed. "I'd never survive if I lost one of you," he murmured. "You're my whole world."

"You won't." Reaching back, she cupped his face. "Look at me."

Slowly, he did just that, staring at her with such deep emotion stark in his face.

"You will never lose us, Ollie…" Kissing his lips gently, she shook her head vehemently. "We're right here and we're not going anywhere."

He nodded, accepting her words as truth, and with his arms wrapped around his family, Oliver Queen could contently fall asleep knowing that they would be there tomorrow, and all the tomorrows to come.  
  
With a little tweaking, his family would be safer than any other on the planet, and he'd make sure that something like this never happened again. Chloe and Connor would never know this fear again and anybody who thought to show them it would be dealt with in a manner unfit of a hero. But above the heroics, behind the Green Arrow, was a husband and a father, and his responsibilities to his family came before all else. If he'd had a choice, the men who did this would be long dead. It was only because his son had been safely asleep in his arms that he hadn't exacted revenge like he so wanted to. But he wouldn't be so forgiving if there was ever a repeat. And nobody could blame him for it.


	102. Survival of the Scorned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Clark no longer playing best friend to Chloe, she’s had to do what she does best. Survive. It helps that a certain leather toting hero wants to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : Ambiguity (Vague)

Two and a half years. Chloe Sullivan and Clark Kent hadn’t been true-blue best friends for two and a half years. He visited, appeared in her life like a distant acquaintance, needing her hacking skills and the knowledge she’d acquired via her Watchtower status. And she supplied what she deemed need-to-know for her former alien bestie. But all was not what it had been; gone were the days when she shared her secrets and her life with him. Now, instead, they led separate lives. While he was off playing super-hero, romancing her cousin, and buddying up with Zod, Chloe had gone on to do what she did best. Survive.  
  
Where one hero had left her, another had taken his place. And this one had worked to earn her trust, to earn his place in her high esteem. Much as she’d been hurt in the past, kicked and looked over time and again, she was no longer the innocent, hopeful girl she’d once been. She was Watchtower; the knowledge base of the Justice League, peacekeeper and shot-caller. She walked her team through deadly territory and she made sure they always came out alive. So while Clark Kent could doubt her and her abilities all he wanted, she knew where she stood, she knew where she belonged, and she wouldn’t deny her destiny.  
  
She kept things vague with Clark, he didn’t need or want to know about her life and she no longer felt the desire to share it with him. Her cousin was a different story; Lois was family and regardless of her ties to Clark, she was still a lifeline that Chloe sorely needed. So while Lois had to play in-between and had raised the subject of tension between them, she knew to leave it alone. And if Clark wanted a dose of Chloe-life, all he had to do was ask his girlfriend.

A lot can happen in two and a half years. After the deaths of Jimmy and Davis, she had a lot of thinking to do, a lot of rewiring and personal exploration. Much as she’d loved Jimmy and wanted to save Davis, it was herself that had been all wrong. She’d made mistakes and in the process had tried to be someone she wasn’t. Jimmy’s wife didn’t mix with the hero inside her; the domestic life where she played hero behind the scenes, never to share her secrets, was a ticking time bomb waiting to blow. Davis had taught her one thing in the whole terrible mess; she wasn’t who she thought she was. Chloe Sullivan was not meant to lead a double life, but instead the one lifestyle that suited her. Watchtower, full time. It was her desire to save that had been the end of her marriage; she didn’t choose Davis over Jimmy. She chose herself, the hero that lived inside her. Was it a bad decision? No. It was just poorly executed. And hard as the lesson was to learn, she knew now.  
  
A whole bucketful of regrets later, working through them and coming to grips with her part in everything, she was finally getting back on track. She had the kind of career that was made for her; it wasn’t something she could brag about to others and it wouldn’t seem glamorous to some. It had its downsides, including all kinds of murder plots, a high depression rate, and the fear that her work and her team might not always be there. But they went on, they survived, and each day she woke up knowing that she was a part of something huge, something world-altering.  
  
If only she’d learned that earlier, she could’ve saved Jimmy from his fate. They never would’ve married and she would’ve heeded his fears from the beginning rather than push them aside and force them both into a marriage neither of them were fit for. And maybe she would’ve let Oliver take that shot and end Davis’ life before he could do more damage, she didn’t know. But in the end, it was all said and done, and those who walked away from it could only learn.  
“Chloe,” Clark said, appearing in the Watchtower out of what might seem like thin air.  
  
“Clark,” she replied, clipped. “What do you need?”  
  
He looked uncomfortable, as if he was still trying to come-to-grips with this new angle to their relationship. “I went to see Oliver… He said you’d be able to update me on the latest movements of Zod and his Kandorians.”  
  
Her lips pursed, brow cocking. “Thought you were still weaseling around in Zod’s playground.”  
  
He sighed. “I am… But I can’t exactly ask too many questions just yet. I need to know where his Kandorians are running off to. And whether _all_ of them have come under Zod’s command.”  
  
Shoulders stiff, she turned to pull up the screen, zeroing in on the Kandorians based world-wide. “Look all you want, but don’t touch anything,” she muttered before walking back to her desk.  
  
Scanning what she’d offered up, he glanced over at her. “Oliver said you’d been spending a lot of time with him and his team.”  
  
“Oliver seems to be saying a lot.” Smiling sarcastically, she rolled her eyes at him before returning to her paperwork.  
  
Nodding, he looked back at the screen. It took a moment before he muttered anything more. “I didn’t know you were working with him full-time.” Disapproval was clear in his tone.  
  
“You didn’t ask.”  
  
“Chloe—“  
  
“If you’ve got what you need, I have work to do,” she interrupted, uninterested.  
  
With a short frown, he nodded. “Thank you for your help.”  
  
She saluted him snarkily, not surprised when he disappeared once more.  
  
This was how they were now and as uncomfortable as it was, she didn’t see another option.  
  
***  
  
Two years. Chloe Sullivan and Oliver Queen had teamed up and worked through their trust issues to build a friendship between them that rivaled any before. He was no Clark Kent, she knew that. And neither did he want to be. What Boyscout wasn’t, Oliver was. He took the chances and he weighed the options; in the end, he did only what he thought was best for the world. He might not have Clark’s sweet down-to-earth innocence, but he did have hope. Hope for the betterment of people, for the good of the world to one day overshadow the bad, and that his merry band of heroes would make a difference.  
  
Where everyone else had willingly left, Oliver came back. She had to push him over the edge in order to bring him back, but when she did he was grateful. And his appreciation wasn’t a passing thought. He didn’t let her down like some people had. Instead, he stood up, donned his suit, picked up his hero heart and wore it proudly. Best of all, he did that by her side. Instead of running away and leaving all he cared about, he learned from his mistakes and he vowed not to make them again. While Clark was working his angle with Zod, Oliver knew that the rest of the world wasn’t on pause and she didn’t hesitate when he asked her to join them. Traveling the world to put evil to bed was just her kind of life. Besides, if Clark needed his super-computer, ex-friend, he could find her wherever she went.  
  
She saw cities she never imagined she’d set foot on. Meeting people who were both appreciative for their help and others who could care less. Bearing witness to the depravity of people in different continents to the hope-filled children that only wanted something to believe in. She oversaw everything; from missions to dinner plans to where the boys would sleep each night. While Bart, AC, Dinah and Victor were off enjoying their time away from work, she and Oliver were looking for the next case, the coming target. And he pushed her to take them off, to enjoy herself too, but she was work-oriented and her only desire was to save more.  
  
Being the friend he was, he learned to read her, to get in the way without causing problems. He started slow. Ordering in nice food to eat while they were working, from restaurants that were so high-class they didn’t _do_ delivery, but for the sake of Oliver Queen asking. When she started to get tired, her eyes blurring, he would draw her work away from her and start a conversation to lighten the mood, the weight on her shoulders. And every time their missions ended, he _ordered_ that she come along for a celebratory drink. “I’m not asking, Sidekick. Let’s go.” So she could argue and fight, but in the end, she was sitting there at the bar with her team and she was enjoying herself.  
  
He always there to tell her to take time to herself, to relax. Where Clark thought of her safety or wanted to fly solo, Oliver wanted to take care of her in a different way. Where she was, he was, and it became second nature to just assume that whatever she was doing, it involved Oliver somehow. He’d made his place in her life and she liked having him there. He might’ve been the boss to the others but he was just her friend. She wasn’t intimidated by the Green Arrow routine, if anything she made light of it to keep him from becoming too centered on that part of himself. While she liked the hero, was proud of him even, it was the man that stood next to her as a friend each day. It was the man that listened to her rant about her former friendship with Clark and it was the man who held her when she cried her eyes out over her part in Jimmy’s and Davis’ deaths.  
  
So while he wasn’t Clark Kent, her plaid-wearing best friend since grade 8, he was Oliver Queen… Her billionaire best friend who picked her up when she fell, dusted her off, and never let her get too deep into her work. If he thought she was too involved, he cut her off. He may have needed her, but he wasn’t about to lose her to the cause. She had a way of putting her heart into everything, of caring too much, and he saw that. He also saw what happened when it didn’t work out. All those years she’d spent playing sidekick to Clark and in the end, his leaving had hurt her. More than the loss of Jimmy or Davis ever had, it was the fact that her best friend could walk away in her time of need that broke her. And Oliver refused to allow her to get that close to anything, to risk feeling that ever again.  
  
That was how she knew that he would be the hero she expected Clark to be. He would be the _man_ she had always wanted Clark to become.  
  
“I’ve got Chinese food, a bag of fortune cookies and the best coffee you could ask for…” Oliver announced, stepping into her hotel room without pause.  
  
Her brow furrowed. “How’d you get in here? You don’t have a key card.”  
  
He only smirked in reply. “I’m surprised you haven’t yet attacked me for this coffee.”  
  
Smiling, she rolled off her bed, which was still covered in dozens of file folders, to take the bags for him.  
  
Shrugging his coat off, he looked over to the mess. “Find anything interesting?”  
  
“Mm,” she murmured, inhaling her coffee. “Yeah…”  
  
“Chloe?”  
  
“Hm? Oh… Right.” She smiled. “Sorry. Yes, I’ve found at least three different places that would definitely be our next point of target. We’re closer to Belgium, so I thought maybe we’d go there first…” She tapped her chin thoughtfully.  
  
“I’ll serve out dinner, you read me the file,” he offered.  
  
Climbing onto her bed, she leaned back against the pillows and opened up the case work she’d been going through while he piled their food onto the plates offered by the suite.  
  
“Hey, there’s no peanuts in there, right? You checked?” she asked, worriedly.  
  
“Yes,” he said, grinning. “I _am_ aware of my own allergies.”  
  
“I’m just saying… Peanut oil is used in a lot of foods and—“  
  
“Chloe?”  
  
She bit her lip, staring at the food warily.  
  
“If I go into anaphylactic shock, you have an epi-pen with you at all times anyway… I’ll be fine.”  
  
She nodded. “Right, but I only have _one_ , so this is a one-fit deal.”  
  
Chuckling, he brought her food over and sat down next to her on the bed. “We’ll stock you up on epi-pens later. Now eat!”  
  
Rolling her eyes, she dug in, while still holding the file up to read.  
  
It wasn’t a night out at some fancy restaurant with matre d’s or candles, but it was _them_ and she preferred it this way. Just two friends, some take-out and a little banter.  
  
***  
  
One year, two months. Chloe Sullivan and Oliver Queen had been together exactly fourteen months. She’d been hesitant, putting off any ideas that they could be more than friends and partners. But Oliver was persistent; when he saw something he went for it. And much as she hated being the reward at the end, there was only so much avoiding she could do.  
  
“You’ve been avoiding me since I kissed you,” he announced, lifting an amused brow.  
  
“No. I haven’t,” she said, walking a wide berth around him as she moved toward her desk to start packing away her files. “I’ve been busy with work. You remember what that is, right? It was supposed to be happening somewhere in between going in to hack Uri’s computer and us making out like teenagers on his desk…”  
  
“It was just a cover-tactic, Sidekick. I figured the only way we weren’t going to get arrested was if they thought were just using the room for a little… _personal_ time.” He smirked.  
  
“Right…” She frowned. “But did you need to use so much tongue?”  
  
“I’ve never had that complaint before,” he muttered.  
  
“It’s not a complaint, exactly.” Sighing, she rolled her eyes. “You kiss just fine. It’s the fact that we were kissing _at all_ that I’m complaining about.”  
  
“Fine’s not very flattering.”  
  
She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Are you seriously still focused on that?”  
  
He crossed his arms. “I think I can do better than fine. In fact, I’m sure of it.”  
  
“Great. You go do that and bring back the poor girl to let me know how it all went…” she replied scathingly. Stuffing her work into her briefcase and putting her laptop away in its bag, she grumbled under her breath as she heard no reply. Upon turning around however, he was standing right behind her, looking down with that charming smile she knew all too well.  
  
“You’re gonna worry yourself into an early grave if one little kiss puts you this on edge…”  
  
“Little?” Her brows flew high. “If I remember correctly, you nearly had the top of my dress off and were dry-humping me into the desk when we were caught.”  
  
He smirked. “And you _weren’t_ moaning for our audience.”  
  
“Oliver!” she exclaimed, glaring.  
  
He laughed lightly. “Would it help if I told you I’d wanted to kiss you anyway?”  
  
Her expression fell blank. “What?”  
  
“You’re cute when you’re cracking codes and making fun of my manhood while you work computer voo-doo circles all around me,” he said, shrugging.  
  
She stared at him, blinking. “Cute?”  
  
“Sidekick…” he murmured affectionately. “If I only wanted to keep the guards off our backs, I could’ve been a little less thorough. For instance… I could’ve simply kissed your neck…” As if to prove his point, he leaned own, nuzzling her head to the side before he buried his lips against the column of her throat, kissing his way down slowly. His tongue and teeth worked her skin into a heated frenzy. “With a little rearranging of clothes, I wouldn’t have had to do much at all. But instead…” His arm wrapped around her waist, squeezing until their pelvises were tight together. “Tell me you don’t feel it,” he whispered against her ear, nipping her earlobe lightly before he kissed along the shell and buried his face in her hair.

“This is so wrong…” she sighed, but already her body was relaxing into his.  
  
“Why?” he asked, his hands sliding up and down her back, massaging and kneading. “Give me on good reason.”  
  
“We’re friends,” she said, shaking her head. Drawing back, she sighed, pressing her hand to her forehead. “We’re _friends_ , Oliver. And right now, I need all of those I can get.”  
  
He licked his lips, nodding. “Okay…”  
  
Her brow furrowed. There was no such thing as giving up when it came to him. “Okay?”  
  
Grinning slowly, he lifted a shoulder. “You’re not ready… Yet.”  
  
She rolled her eyes.  
  
“Trust me… When you are, I’ll be there.” Cupping her chin, be stroked her lower lip with his thumb. One wink later, and he left her alone in her suite to finish packing.  
  
And he was right.  
  
It was through him that she became ready. Through the little things, like taking her hand when they were walking so she could get used to the feel of it. He brought her favorite coffee to her each morning, along with a newspaper and every once in awhile, he’d greet her with a tulip. When they’d work late and her shoulders would ache, he’d rub them without having to be told, and she learned to appreciate that, how he took her cues and acted rather than asked. He anticipated her in ways nobody else had; what she’d say, do, want, need, everything. And each night, before he left whatever hotel room she was staying in this week, he’d kiss her cheek or her forehead or just the corner of her mouth. And as days and weeks passed, she started wishing he’d do more. She started wanting to feel his lips on hers, on her neck, and his hands on her body. She wanted to know what it was like to be loved by a man like him, who already looked at her like she was the best thing in his life.  
  
So that night, when he stood in her doorway, ready to go back to his own room, and he leaned in to kiss her goodbye, she turned her head just an inch and met his lips head on. His eyes widened a fraction before he stepped forward like the confident person he’d always been. Her arms slid around his neck, fingers threading in his hair, while he drew her in tight against him, nearly lifting her from the floor with the force of his embrace. He tasted like coffee and heat; a mocha warmth that fired through her blood and turned her body on high. And that tongue she’d previously told him there was too much of between friends, she couldn’t get enough of it now.  
  
His hands were everywhere, rubbing every inch of her body, from her thighs to her neck. Right there in the doorway of her room, she would’ve willing stripped down naked and straddled him had he not had the foresight to move them back into the bedroom and kick the door shut behind him. She dragged his coat from his shoulders, threw it to the ground and then worked his buttons free of his shirt while simultaneously gasping for air against his lips. He was so incredibly built; tawny, muscled skin free to her roaming hands. She couldn’t touch enough of him, feeling him so hard beneath her fingers.  
  
He stopped her at the bed, leaned over and swept everything from it, not caring that there were loose papers about to go flying everywhere. Work was the last thing on his mind when he turned around and sat on the edge, pulling her in between the part of his legs. Still completely dressed, she stared down at him with desire and some fear all mixed together.  
  
“You’re still here,” she murmured softly.  
  
He grinned. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
She felt those words, the promise behind them, deep down in the very core of her soul.  
  
She didn’t hesitate when she reached for her blouse and lifted it up and off herself. There was no pausing as he unclipped her bra and tossed it away or unfastened her pants and slipped them down her hips, taking her panties with them. And when he pulled her into his lap, her legs on either side of him, she wasn’t the least bit scared. He kissed her chest, where her heart lay, and she knew without a doubt that this was the man she’d been waiting for, dreaming of. He made love to her until everything ached spectacularly. He kissed her from her toes to her temples and not once did she question whether or not he cherished her. And when it was time to return the favor, she went exploring with vigor. She learned every scar, every soft-spot, every inch that made him cry out in desperate pleasure. By the time they laid down to get any sleep, the sun had risen and was glaring at them from outside the window. Ignored for the day, along with any work she might’ve once drowned herself in, they slept wrapped in each other.

She played with his fingers, sometimes drawing shapes on his palm.  
  
Kissing her shoulder, he sighed against her hair. “You know Bart’s gonna flip, right?”

She laughed. “We have an understanding… He loves me from afar and I’m not the least bit offended when he finds a pretty _mamacita_ to sate his impulses.”  
  
“I guess that might work for him…” he mused. “I’d rather love you up close and leave the other ladies to somebody else though.”  
  
Smiling, she rolled her eyes. “Cheesy, Queen.”  
  
“Yes,” he agreed, chuckling, “But at least it’s true.”  
  
Rolling over, she looked up into his sleepy face. Stroking the dark whiskers of his chin, she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I still want to take this slow… The actual ‘us’ part, at least. Fun as this was, the last thing I want is for us to jump in headfirst and not come up for air.”  
  
He nodded. “Negative on the suffocating to death, got it.”  
  
Shaking her head, she lifted a brow at him. “You _know_ what I mean.”  
  
Squeezing her, he assured, “Yes… I do.”  
  
“And you’re okay with it?” she wondered skeptically.  
  
“Chloe… I’ve waited this long, I can wait a little longer.” Tucking her hair behind her ear, he smiled. “I’ve found that cracking the enigma is very much worth it.”  
  
She frowned to hide her amusement. “You think you’ve got me cracked? You’ve got a lot more work ahead you than you think, Queen.”  
  
He chuckled. “Looking forward to it.  
  
Contrary to their wanting to take it slow, things excelled faster than expected. Given their lifestyles and surroundings, it was only expected that their feelings would evolve faster than a regular couple, who had more time apart. Working together and playing together had them closer than ever. The team wasn’t surprised; even if Bart made a fuss that he’d called dibbs first. And eventually, their being a couple was just natural, as if it’d always been that way.  
  
There were close calls that would happen to any couple given their jobs; Oliver nearly died, Chloe was kidnapped one too many times, and being in a relationship that involved your lover risking life and limb on a daily basis had its many panic buttons. But they worked through it, they stuck by each other, and they came out better for it. Where she’d never been able to share her secrets with anybody but Clark in the past, now she had her own vault in Oliver. And likewise, he was willing to share himself with her, knowing that there was nobody who would guard them better than her.  
Which was why, on the anniversary of fourteen months since the night it all began, she opened her fortune cookie to find a ring. Platinum band with two diamonds and an emerald, it was just right.  
  
“Oliver?”  
  
Sitting on their bed in a hotel in Hong Kong, surrounded by a mass of papers citing everything from murder to espionage, Oliver Queen proposed.  
  
“I want to always be here, with you…” he said simply. “Marry me, Sidekick.”  
  
Tears glittering in her eyes, she couldn’t even speak over the emotion stuck in her throat.  
  
“Nod twice for yes,” he said, grinning.  
  
Laughing, she did just that.  
  
***

Two weeks. Chloe and Oliver had been back in Metropolis for two short weeks. Upon learning that Zod and his followers had been truly defeated and once more the world at large was safe, the team came back to Metropolis to see for themselves. Clark hadn’t called in the cavalry in the end, not that anyone had been surprised. Working solo was what he’d always preferred. Standing in Oliver’s high-rise penthouse, Chloe watched as boxes were filled with what had been left behind so long ago. Where once her first watchtower station had been set up was now just an empty office overlooking the elevator. They were moving permanently to Star City, and while their overseas work would never end, they’d be setting up home for a little while yet.  
  
Queen Manor was beautiful, if not a little impersonal. But with her and Oliver moving in, she expected it to return to the glory of the days when Laura and Robert Queen had once lived there. With Queen Industries based in Star City, Oliver would have his business to put his attention on when not playing superhero and Chloe had turned down an offer from the local newspaper. Her full time job was still Watchtower and having just returned from their honeymoon, she had enough responsibilities to care for.  
  
She felt his presence long before he alerted her to his being there.  
  
Tired of the game, she turned to see him standing in all of his tall dark glory. Still wearing the black trench coat, he stared at her a long moment. “You look different,” he said, lips pursed every so slightly.  
  
“They’re not wrinkles, they’re laugh lines,” she replied, half-smiling.  
  
He offered her a small grin. “You’ve been away a long time.”  
  
“The rest of the world needed us,” she said simply.  
  
“Two and a half years, you could’ve seen the whole world twice.”  
  
She lifted a shoulder. “More like three and a half times.”  
  
He nodded, eyes scanning the apartment. “Lois said Oliver was making the move to Star City permanent…”  
  
“As permanent as a man with a jet to fly around the world saving people can be.”  
  
He was hesitant to ask something and she didn’t bother pushing him. It seemed like the longest awkward moment of her life. Finally, when the suspense became too much, he said it. “And you’re going with?”  
  
“Well I did make a promise to stick by him,” she mused.  
  
His brows furrowed. “Are you happy out there? With the team?”

“Happier than I’ve ever been. Yeah, it’s exhausting and there’s always another problem on the horizon, but…” She shook her head, smiling more to herself than him. “It’s where I’m meant to be.”  
  
“And the guys? They’re treating you all right?”  
  
She frowned. “What’s this about, Clark? We’ve barely talked in the last couple years and now you want to know what my life is like?” Cocking a brow, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I talk to Lois every week; I’d think you’d know enough.”  
  
Grimacing, he turned his eyes away. “She’s decided if I want to know anything, I have to ask myself. She says she’s tired of playing messenger.”  
  
Chloe shrugged. “That sounds like her.”  
  
He nodded, before uncomfortably asking, “So?”  
  
Huffing, she rolled her eyes. “So what? My life is exactly how it should be. What do you want me to say? I do what you think I do. I’m Watchtower, I oversee everything, I get them in and out and save the little people on the way. I’ve been everywhere in the world, I’ve seen everything imaginable. What _more_ do you want, Clark?”  
  
“I don’t know…” he admitted. “Knowing you were back, I guess I just… felt like I should be here too… that I should _know_ what’s going with you…”  
  
“You had two and a half years to do that. You’re a little _late_.”  
  
“I know… And I’m sorry, I—“  
  
“I don’t wanna hear it,” she interrupted, raising a hand. “I’m tired of apologies and excuses and everything else. I’m just _tired_. Okay?” Sighing, her shoulders slumped and she moved to sit down on a stool.  
  
“Chloe?” a voice called out, one that made her smile despite the current situation.  
  
“In here,” she replied, looking around Clark’s now stiff figure.  
  
Oliver stepped inside the living room, glanced at Clark and then moved to stand next to her. “Boyscout,” he greeted.  
“Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”  
  
Chloe leaned to her side, comfortably braced against Oliver. His arm fell around her shoulders.  
  
Frowning at the nickname, Clark nodded. “Lois told me you were moving. Thought I might drop in and see if you needed a hand.”  
  
Oliver looked around the near-empty penthouse. “No… I think the movers have it handled.” He smiled, a brow lifted in his old friend’s direction. “Heard you took out Zod. Congratulations.”  
  
Clark nodded stoically. “I would’ve called, but…”  
  
“Hey, don’t worry about it. We had our hands full anyway… Two years is a long battle to fight and there were other people, other places that needed our attention. We get it.” Rubbing Chloe’s arm, he looked down at her. “How you feeling?”  
  
She smiled softly. “Tired, as usual.”  
  
He frowned. “You’ve been on your feet all day… Again.”  
  
“If I can still see them, I’m gonna use them,” she replied, wrinkling her nose.  
  
Oliver chuckled. “Fine… For now.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “You think you’ll get you way, but you _won’t_.”  
  
He smirked. “We’ll see.”  
  
Clark cleared his throat quietly, drawing their attention back to him, showing the confusion on his face.  
  
“You haven’t told him,” Oliver murmured knowingly.  
  
Petulant, she frowned. “He didn’t ask.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Oliver stared down at her. “That’s the best you’ve got?”  
  
She pursed her lips. “I didn’t feel like sharing.”  
  
“You screamed it when you found out. Bart nearly had a heart attack.”  
  
Wincing, she lifted a shoulder. “He was having that coughing fit because he was trying to drink three cans of pop at once when I happened to _announce_ our news.”  
  
Rubbing her back soothingly, Oliver only shook his head. “If you say so, Sidekick.”  
  
“I do,” she replied staunchly. “And that makes it true.”  
  
Chuckling, he looked back up at Clark. “You gonna tell him or must I?”  
  
“Fine…” Climbing off the stool, Chloe looked up at Oliver and then back at Clark. “Clark… Meet my husband!” she declared, motioning back to Oliver.  
  
Clark blanched while Oliver only stared at her. “That wasn’t the news I was suggesting.”  
  
“I felt it was best to point that out first,” she murmured back. “And surprise two,” she said, smiling sarcastically at her former friend, “We’re three and a half months pregnant.” Slapping Oliver’s stomach, she joked, “Imagine how hard it’s going to be to work that baby fat off, hey.”  
  
Sighing, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “If you were going for shock-value, you’ve accomplished it.”  
“You’re _married_ … To _each other_ …” Clark sputtered.  
  
“We eloped,” Oliver answered. “We would’ve invited you but… it was a small wedding that really sort’ve happened in a small chapel in Havana in between jobs… Kind of spur of the moment.”  
  
“We were already engaged but there were some mishaps and we just wanted to get it over with,” Chloe added.  
  
“Nice way of putting it, sweetheart.”  
  
She grinned in reply. “It’s not the _wedding_ that matters, it’s the marriage. And ours, my lovely green-leather wearing husband, is fine.”  
  
His eyes narrowed. “Fine’s not very flattering.”  
  
Smirking, she shook her head. “Don’t start that again…”  
  
“If I didn’t start it, we wouldn’t be here.”  
  
She pursed her lips. “If you’d learn to put a pause on it, we also wouldn’t be having this baby so early.”  
  
Smiling, he pressed a hand to her stomach. “I happen to think the timing was perfect. We needed a break from traveling and this will give us some time for just us.”  
  
Her brows lifted, unconvinced. “And a screaming, pooping toddler.”  
  
“Better than shooting, bleeding bad guys.”  
  
She shrugged. “You have a point.”  
  
Clark stared at them, brows furrowed. “Does Lois know?”  
  
Chloe and Oliver exchanged a look. “Bart sped her over for the wedding and then brought her back when it was done,” Chloe admitted. “I asked her not to tell you.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because _someone_ …” She glared back at her husband. “Thought it would be better if I told you in person.”  
  
“And the baby? Does she know about that?” he wondered, frowning to himself.  
  
“No… We’ve been busy with the move since we got back and I haven’t had time to really sit down with her.”

Looking around him as the news sunk in, Clark sighed. “So this is it… You’re moving to Star City… With your husband and… a new baby.”  
  
Chloe smiled at him genuinely. “I told you… My life is exactly how it’s supposed to be.”  
  
He stared at her a long moment and then looked at Oliver, who stood so steadily by her side. The perfect team, partners, husband and wife. “Yeah… I guess you really are.”  
“Mr. Queen?”  
  
They turned to see a mover holding a clipboard.  
  
“Everything’s packed and ready. We hope to have it in Star City by tomorrow afternoon.”  
  
“Great. Thank you,” he replied, nodding. Looking back at Chloe, he kissed her temple. “I’ll go settle the bill with them and meet you downstairs, all right?”  
  
She nodded, watching him leave before she turned back to Clark. “Not quite what you expected, huh?”  
  
“No…”  
  
“Things change… It’s been a long time and… we’re different people.”  
  
“I know…” He glanced behind him, at where Oliver had just left. “Or at least I’m starting to.”  
  
“He’s a good man,” she told him, smiling. “A _great_ man, really.”  
  
Clark could only nod.  
  
“If you ever need our help, Star City’s just a little run from here, right?” she offered.  
  
“Right.”  
  
Sighing, Chloe started walking toward the door. “I’ll see you around, Clark.”  
  
“Yeah, sure…”  
  
He stood alone in the empty penthouse suite where years ago, he’d met a cocky Oliver Queen. And now, what seemed like a lifetime later, that same man had married his best friend and was starting a family with her. Knowing that the distance between him and Chloe was all his own doing, it still hurt that he wasn’t a part of this time in her life. But there was no redemption to be found. As she said, she was different, and her life was in Star City now, with Oliver and their baby. Maybe eventually, if he put effort into it, she might forgive him and he could earn a place in her life. But it was with doubt and hesitance that he try that route. And the knowledge of the fact that his own doubts had been the reason it ended it all in the first place only reminded him that while they may have changed and grown, he was still the same man who willingly walked away from her and the friendship she never once denied him. Maybe she was better off without him, in her new life where she was happy and loved and never forgotten in the grand scheme.  
  
So Clark Kent did what he did best. He left. He continued with his life. And he hoped them the best.  
  
***  
  
Five years. It’d been seven and a half years since Clark had been best friends with Chloe Sullivan and five of those she’d been Chloe Queen. Living a happy life in Star City, California with her five year old daughter Cadence and her adoring husband Oliver. Clark had come and gone, a sight seen at birthdays or holidays due to his marriage to Lois, but he hadn’t been a pillar in her life quite like his wife was. He had been on the outside, looking in. And what he saw, he was happy for. In all his life, throughout their entire friendship, never once had she smiled as brightly as she did in Oliver’s presence. Never once did she look as radiantly happy as she did when she was with her family. Her team was always at her side, a group of friends that supported each other fully. And Clark watched with some regret that he wasn’t included in their extended family. He was Cadence’s uncle and Lois’ husband, but he was a separate entity from the League and from Chloe. It was his own doing, he understood that, and there was no apology in the world that would make up for it. But if there was anything about the situation that could comfort him it was the knowledge that while he may not play the roll of best friend anymore, she’d found another, more deserving person; her husband.  
  
Christmas at the Queen Manor was one of splendor. The tree was decorated brightly, with every bauble and trinket one could find. With silver garland and green twinkling lights, it stood center in the living room and drew eyes all around. Beneath the boughs, presents of all shapes and sizes were a many; amassed for the couple, their daughter, and all their friends who had come to celebrate the season. With a table of treats piled high and drinks all around, guests were chit-chatting with each other, getting updated on the goings-on of friends and acquaintances. And running around in a flurry of red velvet, her blonde curls bouncing, was five year old Cadence Laura Queen.  
  
Zig-zagging between guests, Cady was running to and fro, her shoes long past tossed in favor of the white tights she wore that slipped on the hardwoods and let her slide in every direction. Searching for more goodies, she giggled as she side-stepped her Uncle AC and headed for the table covered in every cookie she’d ever seen. Eyes wide, she reached out and just about had a chocolate chunk in her hand when she looked up to see her Uncle Clark staring at her.  
“Did your mom say you could have that?” he asked.  
  
Pouting, she shook her head. “But daddy didn’t say I _couldn’t_!”  
  
Clark chuckled. “Why don’t you go ask your parents?”  
  
Stomping her foot, she rolled her eyes. “Fine…”  
  
Turning around, she ran back over to the couple currently embraced next to the tree. Arms wrapped around Chloe’s waist, Oliver stood behind her as she leaned back against him. Green silk top matching her eyes, she smiled up at her husband as he whispered something in her ear. A tugging at her pants had Chloe looking down at her daughter.  
Hands clasped together pleadingly, she hopped on spot while asking for a cookie.  
  
Clark couldn’t help but extend his ears to listen in.  
  
“Please, please, please, just _one more_ cookie, momma!”  
  
Oliver grinned. “It _is_ Christmas eve.”  
  
Chloe frowned up at him. “You’re a pushover, you know that?”  
  
“She has your face,” he defended, lifting a shoulder.  
  
Laughing, Chloe looked back down. “Okay, but only _one_.”  
  
“Yes!” she cried, turning and hurrying back.  
  
Her feet caught on the hardwood and sent her flying just seconds later and Clark heard Chloe’s exhalation of fear in the same split-second he caught his niece before she could spill. Grinning up at him as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, she announced, “I get a cookie!” Wiggling out of his grip, she tottered over to the table. Clark looked up to see Chloe, clenching her hand around Oliver’s arm.  
  
“She’s fine,” he soothed against her ear.  
  
She nodded, but it took a moment before she relaxed again. Staring at her former best friend, she offered an appreciative nod and Clark smiled back. He might be on the outside, but this was his family too. And whether he and Chloe ever reconciled, he would always want her happiness first and foremost.  
  
“Nice save, Superman,” Lois whispered at his side, her arm encircling his waist.  
  
He shrugged it off modestly.  
  
“Have you said hello yet?” she wondered, glancing at her cousin across the room.  
  
“No…” He winced, knowing exactly what she’d do.  
  
“This is ridiculous. We’re going over there!”  
  
Despite being a whole lot strong than his wife, he was still dragged across the way. If anyone was more bent on mending the rift, it was Lois. He didn’t stop her, because there was really no getting in her way. And as awkward as it always was, he faced them still with a half-smile and a shake of the hand each.

“You tell them the news yet?” Oliver asked his wife, lifting a brow.  
  
“You’re so impatient,” she muttered, smiling  
.  
“Don’t tell me!” Lois exclaimed. “There’s another Queen spawn!”  
  
“I think she deserves a prize,” Chloe announced, staring at her cousin wryly.  
  
“No way!” Lois glanced up at Clark briefly. “Nice timing, Queens, looks like yours news is the same as ours!”  
  
Chloe’s eyes widened. “You’re pregnant?”  
  
“I suggested Clark carry it, but he had a list of reasons why not so yeah, I’m carrying the half intergalactic space baby!”  
  
“Oh Lois!” Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around her cousin.  
  
“Congratulations Clark,” Oliver said, shaking his head.  
  
“Yeah, you too…”  
  
Oliver cocked a knowing brow. “Looks like our kids will be growing up together.”  
  
Yeah, and that rift between him and Chloe was probably going to have to get a whole lot smaller a whole lot quicker.  
Her smile was hesitant, but he hoped that eventually she might grin at him like she used to. Maybe some day in the future; if he were to be so lucky.


	103. Another Hero, A Different Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When are you going to stop taking his mistakes out on me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : Anger

“When are you going to stop taking his mistakes out on me?”  
  
She paused. Those words had so much to them; the full weight of the accusation sat heavy in her chest. She wanted to deny it, she wanted to whirl around and show how appalled she was that he would even _think_ that. But he was right.  
  
Chloe Sullivan had lived her life being the girl grown _out of_ , all the while wishing she was the girl men grew _in to_. And when that man came along, all of her years spent standing in the background, wanting up front, came flooding back. She was unwilling to let him get too close, always expecting the next pretty face to take him away. She expected to be forgotten or looked over, just as soon as he found who he _really_ wanted, who he needed more than her. And she did what she could, she tried her best to be irreplaceable, but there was only so much one person could do. Taking those fears out on him did nothing for their relationship; if anything, she was the one ruining it. Because she’d rather walk away thinking none of it was her fault than stick around and find out it was just _her_ he didn’t want.  
  
Months she’d been avoiding this, and all the same waiting for the impending fall-out. Where he reached, she drew away, and where he laid his heart out, she hid hers. There was truth and honesty between them, always, but offering up her heart was what she avoided to the very end. It’d been broken one too many times, stomped on and kicked around. And when he came along, he offered safe-keeping, a shelter, but she was getting entirely too jaded when it came to loving someone. The worst of it was she knew he deserved it; of everyone she’d ever let herself open up to, he’d been the strongest, the most trust-worthy. And he really, _truly_ , loved her. She knew that; she _felt_ that.  
  
Turning, she stared at him, her lips pursing so they wouldn’t shake. She’d been waiting for this to come up, only she hadn’t thought he’d put up any sign of a fight. She figured he’d give in, give up, and walk away. She should’ve known better.  
  
“I’m not him,” he said simply, lifting a shoulder. “In fact, I think I’m the farthest thing from him while still staying in the realm of good guy.”  
  
He was and she knew that. But there was only so much heartache a girl could take before she expected it from everyone.  
  
“I was here when he wasn’t… I’ve _been_ here this whole time… And you keep looking at me like you’re surprised I would stay.” He shook his head, brows furrowed in pained confusion. “I don’t know what I have to do to prove myself to you.”  
  
She winced. “You don’t have to prove anything…” she murmured, eyes falling to the ground. “You’ve more than proved what kind of person you are, long before this ever happened.”  
  
“This?” He sighed, shaking his head. “This is _us_ , Chloe. And frankly, I’m not sure where we stand anymore.”  
  
Her head told her this was good, there’d be no more waiting, it would finally end. But her heart _hurt_ ; it ached with the realization that she was about to really and truly _lose_ him.  
  
He crossed the room in long strides, coming to a stop so close to her she could feel the heat radiating off his tall, broad form. “Tell me what I have to do… What I have to _say_ …” he asked, reaching for her. Hands encompassing her shoulders, he squeezed as if he wanted to shake sense into her.  
  
She urged herself to calm down, to take a deep breath and find the cold persona she’d picked up after Clark left her. She wanted to be unaffected by all of this, wave goodbye, and think it didn’t hurt at all. Because she _didn’t_ get close to him, she _didn’t_ fall in love with him. Except she did. Chloe Sullivan, heart on her sleeve, girl who always came in second, had done it again. She went and fell for the hero and now it was blowing up in her face. Her own fault, really. Much as she loved him, she pushed those feelings and him away. Kept at arm’s length, she expected it to dim. God, but he was persistent though. When she pushed, he pulled; when she fell, he picked her up; her no’s were his yes’s.  
  
“Don’t do that,” he murmured, hands cupping her face. “Don’t block me out now. Please.”  
  
She stared up at him, clenching her teeth as she saw those warm brown eyes stare at her so sorrowfully. “I can’t do it again,” she whispered.  
  
“You _aren’t_ ,” he argued. “I’m different! _We’re_ different!”  
  
He sounded so sure; so confident that they wouldn’t repeat the past.  
  
Blinking to stop her tears and only managing to force them out, she sucked in air and shook her head as her entirety shook. “Please…”  
  
He scowled. “Please what? Leave you? Give up?” He shook his head vehemently. “You don’t get it!”  
  
Her eyes squeezed shut.  
  
Stroking her cheeks, wiping her tears away and soothing her some, he took a deep breath. “I’m not leaving you,” he promised, shaking his head as she opened her mouth to argue. “No. Listen to me!”  
  
Staring up at him, she bit her lip, seeing her broken self mirrored in his eyes.  
  
“I don’t know why he ever walked away from you, but I know that I _won’t_ …” Searching her gaze, he smiled gently. “He hurt you and I want to promise that I won’t, but I can’t. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that whatever happens, I want us to be on the same page… And you, trying so hard not to be here with me, is only getting in the way. So I need you… I need you to stop pushing me away and I need you to try and trust me.”  
  
Gripping his shirt in her fists, she knew what the smart move would be. Push him away, take what little of her heart she had left, and survive.  
  
Burying a hand in her hair, he drew her close. “Let me love you, Sidekick.”  
  
Eyes falling closed, she let all the fight drain from her and he caught her. Like he always had and always _would_.  
  
“Don’t break me… Please, Ollie.”  
  
Wrapping his arms tight around her, he buried his face in her neck. “I won’t… I won’t.”  
  
And she believed him. Finally.  



	104. Give and Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this life of splendor and tragedy, she was his redemption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Song** : Wonderwall – Ryan Adams (or the original, by Oasis)

_I don't believe that anybody_  
_Feels the way I do_  
_About you now_

 _And all the roads that lead to you were winding_  
_And all the lights that light the way are blinding_  
_There are many things that I would like to say to you_  
_I don't know how_

 _I said maybe_  
_You're gonna be the one who saves me_  
_And after all_  
_You're my wonderwall…_

* * *

  
  
Oliver Queen lived a life of splendor and tragedy, intermixed until he could hardly tell them apart. Where there was good, bad would intervene, and so the opposite too was true. Childhood, an innocent beginning, was overshadowed by the death of his parents. High school, where his bullying and overindulgent behavior resulted in the death of a classmate, brought clarity. His disappearance after graduation and subsequent two years spent on an island built his character and archery skills. The return of the people who had left him there brought Tess Mercer into his life but eventually his self-destruction would ruin his first love. And then his Green Arrow persona grew and with it, the secrets and lies and his swan dive into the deepest and darkest of worlds. To answer his calling, he left his second love in Lois Lane, and to save the world he would kill a nemesis.  
  
Give and take; that was his world. And it never failed to take when he gave, to drag him down when he thought he was reaching the top.  
  
So when she stepped into his life, like a torch in a dark cavern, he waited for the floor to fall out beneath him. But it didn’t. Self-destruction came calling and he drank it with vigor, until she put him in the center of his own living hell. Fight and survive, or give in and die. Instincts got him through it and as much as he ignored the hero calling out, it was still strong, still fighting inside him. And she knew that, she knew the second he laid down arms that he was only meant to pick them back up. So the world attacked and she fended it off, reminding him of his place.  
  
She brought him back, held up redemption on a silver platter and he took it. There were issues and problems, always, but she stood next to him, holding his hand through it all. At each crossroads, she offered her insight but she trusted his judgment. And the world kept spinning, they lived another day, he enjoyed another of her confident grins.  
  
A match; in a world of puzzling mismatched people, he found the one that fit him.  
  
She knew him, from the green leather to the Armani suit. She saw him when his face lay in the gutter, cradled the hero in his heart, and when he was ready to be helped up, her hand was there for him to take. She’d been hurt herself, looked over, forgotten, betrayed and abandoned. She was careful, she didn’t trust easy, but when she was there next to him, she leaned on him and he leaned back. Support; a net he’d often thought was full of holes. At least in his life, it had been. But there she stood and she never let him fall.  
  
He didn’t cross the line, refused to step over the boundaries between friendship and lovers. And wasn’t it just her way that she was the one who took the first leap.  
  
She stood across from him, all-knowing, smiling as if she had the answer to all his questions. “If you’re afraid of breaking my heart, don’t…” she told him simply. “You’d have to win it first.”  
  
“A challenge?” he asked, his lips curling with a smirk. Reaching for her, he threaded his fingers in her soft hair. “And if I win?”  
  
She cocked a brow, stared up at him. “Hold on tight; this isn’t a ride for just anyone.” Her hands slid up his chest, wrapped around his neck. “Coward?”  
  
He grinned, lowered his head until they were eye to eye. “Never.”  
  
She kissed him, met his passion with equal veracity. He stripped her bare, from her clothes to her very soul, and when he laid down next to her, he felt the same. Atop green sheets, with their legs tangled and their hearts heavy on the line, he let go and he hoped for the best. He got it. When he gave, _she_ gave. She accepted, she loved, but she never _took_. She welcomed him into her arms, her body, her heart and he walked forward, just as open, just as ready. The lives they lived were made of intensity and that showed as much in their love-making. A thirst, a desire for her as he’d never felt for another woman had taken hold of him. He could easily spend a lifetime in her arms, hearing her call his name, seeing her arch her sleek body to meet his. Sweaty, exhausted, he cradled him to her like a long-lost piece of himself, unwilling to let her go for anything.  
  
Days, weeks, months, and there was no fallout. Their friends looked at them as if this was expected; while hesitant even Clark accepted it. And hand-in-hand, they met the world, all of its ups and down, its twists and turns. The road wasn’t easy; it threw curveballs and reveled in each moment they tripped. But they learned and they continued on, they fought with all of themselves; for each other and the world at large. The heroes sought justice and they would find it.  
  
It didn’t take him long to figure it out; that this was his place. Where before he’d made his mistakes, he’d put his heart in the wrong hands, now he wouldn’t.  
  
He married her before the end could near; before somebody could protest their rightness. And he vowed before God, their friends, and anybody who would listen that nobody felt the way he did about her. There was love, he’d seen it, in Lois and Clark. But what he had with her was so beyond that; it was a connection, a physical and spiritual bond. She was the only one, in a world of billions, that could save him. The tragedy was for the outside world, remiss between them. She was his splendor, his family, his very heart. And as long as she moved, she breathed, she smiled, he could go on.  
  
Twirling her around, watching as the sun glittered in her hair, he felt true happiness.  
  
Stumbling in dizzy laughter, she wrapped her arms around his neck.  
  
Grinning, he kissed her forehead. “I think you’ll be the one who saves me… from whatever’s coming.”  
  
Sighing reverently, she kissed him tenderly. “We save each other… Always.”  
  
Chloe Queen danced with her husband, forgetting what chaos the world might put before them next. For now, it was them. In a world that so easily took and stole, he would be the one to give. His safe embrace, his loving heart, and a future built for just the two of them. After all, she was his and he was hers; their wonderwall.  



	105. Less Than Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor Queen always knew his parents weren’t normal, it just took him a little while to figure out how _un_ normal they really were.

Connor Queen always knew his parents weren’t normal. But it wasn’t until he was seventeen that he learned just how _un_ -normal they really were.

Graced with the good looks of his father, his mother’s vivid green eyes, and the charm of both of them, Connor wasn’t what anybody would call _unpopular_. But having been born the son of a billionaire and super-sleuth ex-investigative reporter wasn’t always easy. If his dad wanted to, he could have a whole cavalry watching his back at any given moment… and Connor wouldn’t even _know_ it. And, had Oliver any other wife, he might have. But Chloe Queen was not willing to make her son suffer the suspicions of her paranoid husband. So he went to public school, he had no guard duty, and he was treated just as any other child might be. Sure, there were a few upsides. Money was never an issue, so he never had to worry about not being able to go on class trips or affording the latest and best in clothing or what-not. But then, he had a limit on everything. Just because they had money, didn’t mean they had to be frivolous.

He grew up in the Queen Manor, where his grandparents had raised his father until their unexpected death just after Oliver’s ninth birthday. The rolling expanse of the grounds was enough to stun most of his friends, and upon getting inside his massive family home most whispered as if they were inside a museum, afraid to touch anything. But as he grew so did his friends and it became obvious that while the Queen’s were known for their exorbitant wealth it wasn’t what made them. Connor learned young that his parents were champions for the weak; they spent more money on charities and helping the world as a whole than they did on themselves. Ever.

While his mother could easily drive the latest and best of vehicles, she preferred her Ford Escape Hybrid, of which she’d been driving since Connor was in junior soccer. So yes, the resources to live like kings were there, but they didn’t. There was never a time in his life when he thought he might be on Teen Cribs or featured in gossip magazines as the next Stavros Niarchos. To him, his life was normal. He had an allowance, a curfew, and when he was out of line he got grounded. Friends he’d grown up with were used to the illustrious Oliver and Chloe Queen as just a couple of normal, uncool parents, while the newer friends tended to still gape. It wasn’t the greatest moment when his first date flushed and fawned over the good looks of his dad or when his science partner came over to work on homework and failed miserably at flirting with his mom. But he got used to it and if anything, he learned that while some parts of his life weren’t considered normal to some, it was what he knew and he appreciated all of it.

Growing up, he’d looked at his dad like he was his hero and his mom like she was his angel. Where his dad was his own personal superhero, just for being the cool guy who would play airplane and put aside Queen Industries business to practice soccer with him, his mom was the one who soothed his tears over owies and cheered him up when he lost his games. A PTA member, his mom undertook most of the planning for just about every event in his young life – from dances to class trips. Being a former investigative reporter who apparently had no intentions of returning to any newspaper, she’d always been what he assumed was a stay-at-home mom. She raised him while juggling charity events, school fundraisers, and helping her husband out with whatever he’d been up to at the time. Connor had no idea just how chaotic her life really was behind the scenes; he had no understanding of why his father always came to her when there was something “work” related rather than head to a board supervisor. As far as he was concerned, his mom was the smartest woman alive, and could solve any problem put in front of her, and so he never questioned it.

He supposed his mother’s keen sense of curiosity and suspicion didn’t quite rub off on him, otherwise he might’ve seen the signs earlier than seventeen…

…

“Hold still…” Chloe muttered.

“It stings,” Oliver replied, sighing.

Grinning, she rolled her eyes. “Maybe next time you’ll be more careful then.”

Rubbing his eyes, a seven year old Connor Queen stared sleepily up at his parents, who were currently sitting in the kitchen with antiseptic and a cloth at their disposal. Bruised knuckles and a cut across his eyebrow told Connor his dad was the one with the latest owie.

“What happened?” he mumbled, blinking tiredly.

Turning toward him abruptly, his parents then exchanged a look.

“Con, baby, what are you doing up?” Chloe asked, crossing the room to kneel in front of him.

Automatically, Connor stepped into her arms and laid his head on her shoulder. “You guys are _loud_.”

Oliver chuckled under his breath. “Dad tripped on his way up the drive. Sorry, buddy, didn’t mean to wake you.”

Sighing, Connor’s eyes fluttered as he looked up at his dad, who looked pretty severely torn up for someone who fell on the short walk from the car to the door. But then, he was only seven, and when he scraped a knee it felt a lot worse than it looked. His dad was like four times his height, so he must’ve fallen really hard, he supposed. “Momma can kiss it better…”

Grinning, Oliver nodded. “And that’s just what she’s gonna do. You want me to carry you back up to bed?” he asked, standing up from the stool.

Nodding sleepily, Connor didn’t even step back. He felt his mom’s kiss against his cheek and then he was being lifted into his dad’s arms.

As they left the kitchen toward the stairs, he turned his head on his dad’s shoulder to look at him. “Did you cry?” he wondered, staring at the swollen cut above his dad’s eyebrow.

“Me?” He grinned, shaking his head. “I was super tough!”

Connor was proud of his dad; if it was him, he would’ve cried and run straight to his mom. But his dad was really strong and he didn’t cry for anything!

As he was laid back down in bed, he hugged his teddy bear close to his chest and rolled onto his stomach.

“Night, buddy,” his dad murmured, running his hand over his hair before he left. The door was open just a crack, letting light spill into his room. He wasn’t afraid of the dark… _exactly_. But he didn’t _like_ it either.

Faintly, he could hear his parent’s voices.

“Fell down the drive, huh?”

“What can I say?” Oliver replied. “I’m a klutz.”

“Yeah… You’re terribly uncoordinated. I don’t know how I put up with you.”

“Not so great on my feet, but I’m great off them…”

With a laugh, their voices faded, and while half-asleep even _Connor_ knew they were making kissy faces again. Weird adults, they were always doing that. Didn’t daddy know that when mommy kissed him better she had to kiss his _owie_ not his mouth!

…

Connor couldn’t honestly remember ever seeing his father show any sign of being anything but balanced. In fact, he was more astute than most; able to get round anything in his way with hardly a glance. Even when Connor had left toys on the stairs as a child, his dad had been able to hop over them or side-step them as if he expected them there. And the only time he’d tripped, to his son’s knowledge, had been the time his wife had unexpectedly grabbed his butt when she walked past him, shocking him into a stumble before he gave her a playful glare and returned to his usual debonair self.

But after that first time when he’d been a little boy and believed the story of Oliver tripping on the way up the drive, he’d heard a million more tales of how his dad had acquired his latest injury. It was beginning to look like his dad had one seriously dangerous job working as a CEO of his family business, and as a little boy Connor wasn’t sure he _ever_ wanted to be a businessman.

By the time he was ten, however, his dad’s injuries became few and far between, or wherever they were they couldn’t be seen. His dad had apparently learned how to walk properly and avoid trouble outside of the house and hardly ever returned home with a cut, scrape or torn up appendage. And so Connor wrote it off, didn’t give it another thought, and returned to life as usual in his world of innocence and childhood fun.

Until he was twelve and the injuries his father had once been all too accustomed to were transferred on to his mom…

…

He hated hospitals. Loathed them with his entire being. Growing up, Connor’s life had been full of color and fun and love; but hospitals were all white and too clean and the people were always so busy and worried and far too many were crying. Sitting in a stiff chair, his hand clenched around the metal arms, he watched as his dad paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair every once in a while.

He didn’t know what happened. One minute he was in school, finishing up a math quiz that his seventh grade teacher had sprung on them, and the next the principal had come and got him, telling him his uncle was there and he needed to go with him. Uncle Bart had been anxious, his feet moving to and fro and his hands going in and out of his pockets as he tried to calm down.

“What’s going on?” he asked, staring at his usually excited and easy-going uncle with concern. He looked around, expecting his parents to jump out from around a corner, but they were nowhere to be seen. Something like dread settled in his stomach and for a second he thought history had repeated itself and he would have to go through what his dad did. His chest ached with the very possibility; he couldn’t lose his parents. He just _couldn’t_.

“Uncle Bart? Where’s my mom and dad?”

“They’re at the hospital,” he replied, his voice cracking at the end. “Your dad didn’t want to leave… He wanted to be there in case she needed him… He sent me to come pick you up, so… You know, we gotta go, okay?” The agony on his face scared Connor.

“Mom,” he murmured, his voice going out. “What happened?”

He couldn’t imagine what could hurt his mom. She was untouchable, always on the move. If it were up to her, she probably wouldn’t sleep due to how much she had to do every day. But Oliver never let her get too involved; dragging her off to bed when it was obvious she needed to rest. Even when she got sick she tried to keep working, but then his dad would take time off from work, force her to rest and he’d make his patented chicken noodle soup… via a can opener and the great makers of Campbell’s. With a red, stuffy nose, she’d sleep on the couch and while irritated, wouldn’t even answer the phone according to her husband’s rules. She was to rest, cooperate and do nothing but think of herself until she was better. It was those times that Connor would come home to find them cuddled on the couch, his mom fast asleep in his dad’s embrace while Oliver stroked her hair and rubbed her back soothingly. She’d smell like Vicks and cough syrup but his dad didn’t seem to mind. Only then would she actually _stop_ and never had she been forced to go to the hospital.

“Th-There was an accident,” Bart muttered, looking back and forth from him to the principal. “We really gotta go, I’ll explain on the drive, okay?”

Nodding absently, his imagination working overtime to fill in the blanks, Connor followed him out to the car and stared worriedly out the window as they drove toward Star City General.

Chaos surrounded him; nurses and patients and people waiting on loved ones were all talking over each other and moving to and fro. And there, in the mess, was Oliver Queen, frantically pacing as he impatiently waited for word on his wife. With a hand on Connor’s shoulder, Bart walked him through the throng of people until they were mere feet from his father.

This was not the man he’d grown up.

Oliver Queen had always been strong, calm, and never let anything really worry him. He had an answer to every problem, and if he didn’t his wife did. There was no such thing as giving up or giving in and it was always his motto to save the other before one’s self. But here was a man who was broken and scared. His face was stricken, his hands shaking, and his whole body reverberated fear and worry.

“Dad?” he squeaked, his concern doubling as he saw the state of his father.

Stopping, Oliver looked over. His jaw tightened and he seemed to swallow back every unfiltered remnant of true worry. Walking toward his son, he put on his brave face and squeezed his shoulder. “She’s gonna be fine…” He said it so clearly, so strongly, that Connor almost believed him. In fact, he would have had he not just seen how wrecked his dad really was.

“I don’t understand… What happened?”

Oliver’s eyes briefly flicked to Bart but then he was staring down at his son seriously. “Just an accident, wrong place wrong time… But the doctor’s are fixing her up and she’ll be good as new, all right?”

That wasn’t enough; he wanted the whole of it. But he didn’t ask, because his parents had never lied to him and if they weren’t saying something then it must be for the best. So he took a seat and he waited and he prayed that all of this was one seriously bad nightmare.

It felt like days, it might have only been minutes, but his dad never stopped moving. Arms crossed over his chest, his eyes never stopped moving back and forth, as if he was searching for a way to make it all better. And then, _finally_ , a doctor stepped out. There was blood spattered on his scrubs and Connor had to swallow back the bile that rose in his throat. He looked up at his dad now, terrified. An arm wrapped around his shoulder, stabilizing, comforting, and the hero-worship he’d grown up on returned. Whatever happened, his dad would make it better.

“There was some internal damage and her heart gave out—“

Oliver Queen physically _shook_ and for a moment Connor feared his dad’s knees would give out beneath him.

“But we were able to bring her back and stabilize her. She’s not out of the woods but we have every reason to believe she’ll come out of this okay.” He smiled briefly. “She’s resting now and she might be a little out of it, but you can go back and see her.”

Everything was drowned out then. He didn’t hear them talking or know what was happening, but his feet followed as his dad propelled them toward the room his mother was resting in.

It was too white; that was his very first thought. There was no color except for what little could be seen outside the room window. Her room at home was done in every shade of green; from the walls to the linens. Even her clothes had an abundance of green in it, and when they didn’t she was still always wearing lively colors.

Her complexion matched the room. Gone was the bright and beautiful woman he’d always known as mom; now she looked small and weak and nothing at all like what he knew her as. This was supposed to be the woman whose stubborn nature was only matched by her husband; who could take on every mother on the PTA with one look and get her way in every matter. This was the woman who made his lunch every morning while simultaneously balancing whatever charity cause she was currently arguing over with someone on the phone. She somehow juggled being a mom, a wife, coordinator of PTA, Queen Charities, and Star City development committee. And now she looked like death had coming knocking and took her feet out from under her.

His dad had crossed the room in milliseconds and was standing at her side, her hand in his and the first glint of hope finally breaching his fear.

“Hey,” she murmured softly, her eyes fluttering open and then closed.

“How you feeling, Sidekick?” he replied just as quiet.

She half-grinned. “Like I’ve been run over, shot, and beaten with a bat… but otherwise a little thirsty…”

With a sad chuckle, he reached behind to grab the cup of ice chips some nurse must’ve left behind. Carefully, he poured a few into her mouth and then fingered a few to melt against her dry lips. With a smile, she looked up at him adoringly. “Thank you.”

Silent, he only nodded.

Eyes flicking to the right, she spotted him. “Connor, sweetie… Come here.”

He didn’t want to. His feet were planted to the floor and for a second he actually considered bolting. Never had he imagined being here, seeing her like this. It scared him.

With a sigh, she stared at him knowingly. “Life isn’t made up on everything good… Sometimes bad things happen to good people… But I promise you, I will be _okay_.”

Despite looking frail, her voice was just as strong and stubborn as ever, and that broke his every resistance. He ran toward her, stopping just short of throwing himself into her arms.

Reaching for him, wires getting in the way, she managed to wrap her arm around his back, her fingers carding through his hair. “Shh… I’m fine…” He didn’t realize he was crying until she tugged him down and his face was buried against her shoulder.

Following in his steps, Oliver pressed his face in her hair and with her boys in her arms, Chloe comforted them and melted their every concern.

That was the day he realized his parents weren’t invincible and that as good as he had it, it could all be taken away in a split second.

He’d never forget that lesson.

…

With his mother returned home a week later, she was still forced to stay off her feet as much as possible, and his dad had taken time off from Queen Industries to make sure she followed doctor’s orders. But within a couple months, everything had returned to normal. Connor never found out what had really taken place and instead comforted himself with the fact that his mom was okay, and his parents were just as strong and loving as ever.

But it had brought about the knowledge that even his mom, who he’d once thought could take on anything, wasn’t infallible. She could die or get hurt just like anybody else. And that concern sharpened his senses, made him acknowledge things he wouldn’t have noticed before. Like how Oliver brought so much of his work to Chloe and a lot of it didn’t seem to be Queen Industries related, or not that Connor could tell anyway. He found himself watching them, wondering what it was they did when he wasn’t looking. Whatever it was, he was sure it was a good thing, but he had to wonder.

And then there were things like how his dad was always so on-guard, as if he expected the very worst, no matter the situation. Why would a man who grew up as he did, with the best of the best, have to worry so much?

If Connor couldn’t find his dad with his mom or in his office, there was only one other place he would be. The training room. Whether he was lifting weights, swimming laps, or shooting arrows at his personal archery, Oliver Queen spent a good portion of his time keeping himself in shape. From when he was just a little boy, Connor could remember his dad was often working out. He’d even incorporated his family into it; making his son laugh when he did push-ups with Connor sitting on his back, or when he’d shoot apples from the top of Chloe’s head. Never once had she been scared, she’d even smile as he aimed. And Connor would giggle and clap his hands, thinking it was all so normal. While his parents did yoga and meditated, he would try and mimic them as any fascinated child might.

As he grew older, he wasn’t oblivious to the way women of all ages looked on at Oliver Queen as if he were sculpted by the Gods. Even his mother wasn’t oblivious, even if she did tease him for his vanity. But there were times, entirely too often for their son’s taste, that he’d find them sprawled on the training mats, making out like teenagers. Much as his mom would bug him about his ‘muscle-man’ physique, she didn’t complain when she was running her hands all over him. And many a girl friend of Connor Queen had looked on after his father like he was the latest and greatest in celebrity hotties.

But it came to Connor’s attention, later in life and well into thirteen, that his dad wasn’t working out because he was self-centered or worried about his appearance. More-so it appeared that he was doing it as a precaution. He would never be a victim and so he took every opportunity to keep himself from being one. Having been trained in martial arts before Connor was even a peanut on the sonogram and one of the best archers alive, Oliver Queen was no slouch in keeping himself and others safe. It came to Connor’s attention that his dad wasn’t just preparing for the off chance something happened, but that he _expected_ something to come at them. And eventually… it _did._

…

From when was just a little boy, Connor knew which side of the bed was his mom’s and which was his dad’s. More because when there were lightning storms or he’d had a bad dream, he knew to wake up his mom and she’d tuck him in between the two of them to go back to sleep. He was four when he realized waking his dad up abruptly was a bad idea.

Carrying his teddy bear, fondly named Archie, his tiny feet padded across the floor almost silently. The racket of lightening outside his bedroom had woken him up and the shadows of trees along his walls had scared him. So with a sniffle and his heart pounding, he hurried toward his parent’s bedroom, quietly opening the door and rushing to the bed. His dad was on the right, always, his back facing the door. Connor’s hand was reaching out toward the shrouded bare back of his dad, shaking in fear as another bolt of lightening ripped across the sky. But before he could even touch him, Oliver had turned over, sat up, and while panting heavily, he held a dagger poised in his hand for attack.

Already frightened, Connor gave a cry of terror and stumbled back before falling back on his bottom and staring up at his disoriented dad.

Just as quickly, arms surrounded Oliver’s torso and the soothing voice of his wife was murmuring against his neck.

“It’s just Connor, Ollie, it’s okay…”

Chest heaving, Oliver slowly calmed down, shaking his head getting his bearings.

Looking down at her son, Chloe smiled. “Com’ere, Con… You just scared daddy, that’s all…”

Sniffling, Connor climbed to his feet. “Was it the thunder, daddy?” he asked, shuffling closer. “Did it scare you too?”

Rubbing a hand over his wife, Oliver looked down at his son sorrowfully. “Yeah…” Reaching for him, dagger now gone from sight, Oliver dragged Connor into his lap. “I’m sorry, buddy…” he said against his son’s sandy hair, hugging him tight.

“I’s okay,” Connor reassured, patting his shoulder. “Thunder scares me too.”

With that, and all the innocence of a child, he crawled in between them and dragged the blanket up to his chin.

Still looking upset, Oliver laid down beside him, his arm reaching across to wrap his family up tight in his embrace. Already over it, Connor fell asleep to his mom’s fingers stroking his hair and his dad’s rhythmic breathing.

But it was a lesson learned and in all the years that followed, Connor would always circle the bed to wake his mom first, knowing that his dad would react automatically. His first instinct was to attack, to keep whoever it was in his room from getting to his wife, and while Connor was just a little boy and had no idea that was why, he did know that his mom didn’t have a dagger under her pillow. She had a gun in the bedside table, and that was much harder to get to when her little boy was trying to crawl into bed because he was scared.

…

As he grew up, he’d accepted that protective nature ingrained in his father, and when he learned of how Oliver had lost his parents he thought it might’ve just been his own necessity to always keep his family safe from harm. But when he started adding things together, Connor began to wonder. Other kid’s dads didn’t get hurt as much as his did, and their mom’s didn’t wear glocks on their hips, hidden beneath blazers. They didn’t do background checks on everybody they or their son met and they didn’t hack government systems just for the fun of it, like his mom.

At twelve and after suffering the near loss of his mom, Connor came to a conclusion he thought best fit the scenario.

It helped too that his best friend Kyle agreed with the assessment.

Obviously, given their great wealth, his parents were careful for fear of someone trying to take advantage. Be it a hostage situation or a robbery; it just made sense.

And so, Connor felt the case was closed. His dad had grown up wealthy and so knew that there were people out there that would do anything for money, and his mom was no idiot. It was obvious she wanted to be careful and prepared for any outcome. The glock was a safety measure and the constitution gave them the right to bare arms. His mom might’ve been taking that to a rather high level, but not everybody was the wife of a billionaire with a safety complex.

He put the matter to rest and went back to life as usual.

Suspicions no longer overwhelming him, he returned to thinking his parents, while obviously overly-protective, were still as normal as could be expected. Even if some of his friends didn’t agree…

…

“You’re parents are totally weird,” Eddie muttered, shaking his head.

Used to that opinion, Connor shrugged. “Why now?”

Eddie looked at him like he was an oblivious idiot. “They like… _love_ each other…” He grimaced. “Still!”

Now he was confused. “Okay… _Why_ is that weird?”

With a sigh, Eddie leaned forward as if he was going to have to explain something that should be easily understood. “Look, we’re like fifteen… Let’s assume they were together for like, I dunno, three years before you…” He stared at him, waiting to see if he was catching on.

Blinking, still feeling left out of the loop, Connor nodded. “Okay…”

“That’s _eighteen_ years, man… That’s not _normal!_ ” Shaking his head, he frowned. “My parents have been together, like, twenty-three years and I’m _telling_ you, they’ve been at each other’s throats since I was _six_ … But yours…” Tipping his head, he stared into the kitchen at Mr. and Mrs. Queen who were currently whispering to each other. Arms wrapped around his wife’s waist, Oliver grinningly said something against her ear before kissing down her neck. With a laugh, Chloe leaned back into his embrace, resting her head against his shoulder. “They’re, like, totally into each other still.”

Connor couldn’t really disagree. Sure, they had their arguments, and yeah, a few times his dad had spent the night on the couch, but in the end, his parents _loved_ each other. And it wasn’t all physical, either. They still held hands and cuddled on the couch together and kissed entirely too much in his opinion, but they also spent hours talking and spending time with each other just _because._ They had an on-going date-night every Sunday and Thursday’s were family movie night, which meant Connor couldn’t get out of it unless he had a monstrous load of homework, and even then they only offered to help him get through it as quickly as possible so they could all relax together.

Not even the gossip magazines could say their marriage was on the rocks. Their nineteenth anniversary had passed a few months before and everybody had only good things to say. There were no scandals or ‘other women’ and much to a lot of people’s surprise, Oliver Queen could be faithful, so long as it was with the right woman. And that was just what Chloe had been; proving to any naysayers that she was Oliver Queen’s _one_ and had been long before Connor had even been born.

“So why’s that weird?” he asked, brow furrowed.

It might gross him out, but he honestly liked that his parents cared so much about each other. He never wanted to be like Kyle, with a divorced mom and dad, having to split his time between them and put up with their constant bickering. He liked that when he came home, it was to his mom and dad, who while busy and bogged down with more than what seemed doable, always had time for him.

“Dude…” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Nobody’s parents are like that. This is like the world of divorce and cheating…” Eyes narrowed, he stared speculatively at Connor’s parents as his mom broke off a piece of cookie and popped it in Oliver’s mouth for him. “They’re like an enigma or something.”

Connor shook his head. “Whatever… If _that_ ’s what’s weird about them I can deal with it.”

His buddy only shrugged before losing interest in the subject and challenging Connor to a game of Xbox4000.

…

Over the years, Connor had shrugged off what others thought was unusual. As far as he could tell, his parents were about as normal as they would ever get. His mom was a bit of a workaholic and while his dad suffered the same, he would put his work aside if only to make his wife do the same. Throughout birthday parties, holidays and vacations, Connor had grown up in a household that never waned in its love or attention. And he knew he had it good. He’d grown up with a mom whose first priority, outside of her own family, was to help others. So he’d lent his hand more than once to help put together charity events, even donning the stuffy tuxedo and making the rounds to please guests.

If it meant helping one person, one family, or an entire village, he would do what had to be done.

He’d been exposed to the worst of treatment, if only through pictures and stories and the knowledge he’d gained from his parent’s insight. So he didn’t waiver in his support and his admiration for his parents only grew as he saw what they’d accomplished. There were people out there better off because of the Queen Charity; those who grew up in places that couldn’t or wouldn’t help.

At sixteen, Connor was used to the overindulgent parties and the ties that choked his independence. He smiled for those who expected it of him and usually went in search of his parents, who often let him leave early and took over the duties of charming the crowd and gaining the support needed. It was at one of these parties that his suspicions were raised once more…

…

Everything was going off without a hitch. Champagne was in great abundance, laughter both real and fake could be heard from various circles, and money was pouring in for the underfinanced relief fund for a community overseas. Moving from group to group were Oliver and Chloe Queen, hands bound together, fingers woven, and smiles in place. It was too early to leave, Connor knew that, but it didn’t stop him from tugging at his bow tie and eyeing the exits.

He considered going out on the balcony for a minute of peace, but he could see a few people crowding it to get a view of the gardens, so he wrote off the idea.

Somebody was calling his name, he was sure it was nobody he wanted to see. Deciding he’d rather walk the room with his parents than have any sort of private chat, he made his way over to them.

Chloe brightened as she set eyes on her son. “Hey Con… You try the shrimp?” she asked with a wink.

Half-smiling, he stopped next to her and tipped his head to the side. After food poisoning a few years earlier, he never went near shrimp again, and would often stay away from the tables all-together if he spotted the pink seafood. Noticing his habitual u-turn every time he spotted shrimp, she liked to tease him at benefits. “Not yet… Kind of hoping to avoid projectile vomiting on the guests,” he replied.

She laughed, not the least bit embarrassed by his candor, even as the people they were talking to exchanged a surprised look.

As Oliver’s hand cradled Chloe’s neck, fingers playing with tendrils of her hair, he passed a look at his son, silently telling him to try and behave.

“Connor, have you met the Scadbergs?” he asked, lifting a brow at his son.

Knowing his cue, Connor held a hand out. “Nice to meet you both. I hope you’ve been enjoying your evening.”

Forgetting his faux pas, they smiled back and each shook his hand. “Don’t you look handsome,” Mrs. Scadberg said in a voice that made him sound like a six year old dressed in his dad’s oversized clothes.

“Thank you,” he replied regardless.

His mother’s laughing green eyes told him she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“If you’ll excuse us, I was hoping to introduce Connor to Marrienne Trembley’s son,” Chloe told them, shaking each of their hands in goodbye before the family of three was on their way.

“I’ve already met Joey Trembley,” Connor said to her. “Something totally crawled up his—“

“Connor,” Oliver said in warning, even as he grinned.

“I’m just saying…” His eyes widened for emphasis.

“I know… But the Scadbergs are pretentious and not spending a dime… They only came for the food.” Glancing at her husband, Chloe frowned. “They’re rolling in it, but they can’t spare some for others?”

“I told you there was no point in adding them to the list,” he reminded, his thumb rubbing tender circles behind her ear.

“And I told _you_ I’m going to keep inviting them until I’ve methodically broken them down and they share the wealth,” she replied stubbornly.

Connor grinned.

“Having fun yet?” his dad asked.

“Tons,” he replied sarcastically. “So far I’ve talked to forty people I don’t know but who all seem to know me… I think a widower pinched my butt and there are a group of thirteen year olds that giggle every time I walk by.”

His parents laughed at his poor disposition.

“It’s not funny… My girlfriend’s _extremely_ jealous.”

His mom cocked a brow. “Is that the story you’re going with?”

He smirked. “If it keeps them at bay… totally.”

Oliver quickly spotted that gaggle of giggling girls. “They’re cute… for tweens…”

Rolling his eyes, Connor looked at his mom. “Have you _ever_ giggled?”

Pursing her lips, she shook her head. “Not over a boy… At least not when I haven’t been under the influence of kryptonite,” she muttered.

“See!” Connor stared at his dad. “Women of substance don’t _giggle_ , dad. You should know that.”

Laughing, Oliver grinned. “My apologies… I had no idea my sixteen year old son was looking for a woman of _substance_.”

“He damn well better be,” Chloe snorted. “Even if he isn’t allowed to date until forty.”

Rolling his eyes, Connor shook his head. “Forty? Seriously?”

Narrowing her eyes, she joked, “You wanna make it fifty?”

He held his hands up in surrender.

Before anything more could be said, the lights went out.

“Oliver…” Chloe said, tone almost warning.

“Not me, Sidekick.”

Confused, Connor was about ask what a power outage would have to do with either of them, but that thought completely fled him when the lights came back on and a dozen or so gunmen dressed in black were aiming at the guests.

Immediately, he looked to his parents, who unlike the rest of the guests weren’t the least bit scared.

Instead, Oliver seemed to be counting the armed men while Chloe was looking behind them, eyeing windows and doors.

And then he was shoved behind them, as if they were to be his human shield.

“You’re packing?” Oliver asked, hand sliding down her back to her far hip.

“Right thigh,” she replied as if she were discussing the weather. “How many?”

“Eight on the floor, two in the windows.”

Connor’s gaze raised and spotted the two gunmen on opposite sides of the room, kneeling in windows with their guns at the ready.

“Has the alert been issued?” she asked.

“As soon as the lights went out. ETA?”

“Twelve minutes, give or take.”

What the hell were they talking about?

He supposed he would know in twelve minutes.

A man stepped out from the crowd – Albert Ronnstein, if Connor was right.

“Look, whatever you’re after we’ll give it you…” he proposed, holding his hands up. “We’ve got jewelry… Money…”

Before he could continue a bullet entered his chest and he was lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor.

Oliver’s hand flexed against his wife’s hip.

Everybody else jumped and gasped, some of the women even crying out in shock and fear.

And then one of the masked men stepped back. “We’re not here to negotiate. _Don’t_ underestimate us.” Pausing for effect, he then added, “When I call your name, you’ll join me here… Bruce Wayne, Robert Karakas, Joseph Buffett, Claudette Bettencourt and Oliver Queen.”

“Five richest people in the room,” Oliver murmured knowingly.

And then he turned, hugged his wife and with a quick move of his hand sliding beneath the slit of her dress, pocketed her favorite glock. With a wink to his son, he turned and walked through the crowd with all the arrogance he was known for.

“Wayne,” he said, nodding toward old friend Bruce.

“Queen,” the man returned stiffly.

Moving to stand at his mom’s side, immediately assuming the protector role, Connor glanced briefly at her. “Mom?”

She smiled at him. “Don’t worry, honey.”

He didn’t know how she _wasn’t_ worrying.

It all seemed to happen in a split-second. One minute five of the wealthiest people alive were being surrounded by armed men and the next there was a blur rushing past, unarming people and knocking them off their feet. Before a shot could even be made, the men above were being wrangled out of the windows, arms wrapping around their necks and tearing them out of their positions. Sirens could be heard approaching, the cavalry on its way.

The man who’d called everyone forward whirled on the group of five, obviously deciding he’d take one hostage and at least get away. But then Oliver had the glock raised and it only took one bullet to the shoulder to take down his opponent. With everything going on, Connor wasn’t sure anybody had seen what his dad had just done. People were running in every direction, just trying to find refuge, but from his vantage point Connor could see that the problem had already been solved. Whoever it was that snuck up on the men at the windows had removed them, and the blur had taken out the others. Oliver and Bruce were subduing the last of the attackers, kicking his gun away and picking him up off the floor.

And all the while, Connor stood next to his mom, his arm out as if to shield her somehow, while she simply smiled, not even effected.

He looked at her, completely bewildered.

Reaching over, she cupped his face. “Like I said… you don’t have to worry.”

And with that, she took his hand and crossed through the crowd to stand at Oliver’s side.

After that it was all police hauling away the perpetrators and his parents commiserating over the mess and unexpected end to the night.

“Well… I’m hungry… Who wants Chinese?” his dad asked.

Chloe hooked her arms with both her husband and her son. “I’m definitely up for that.”

Not sure what the hell happened, Connor could only nod.

“Mings?” he asked.

They grinned. As if they’d go anywhere else.

…

Over the next year, he tried to figure it out to no avail. Whenever he brought it up, his parents cleverly distracted him until his curiosity was abated. At least for a little while.

When they weren’t home, he went searching for clues. But he didn’t find any; not really. His parents were meticulous and careful and if they were doing anything that was less than normal, it wasn’t anywhere he could find. Of course, that would be expected. He was just a sixteen year old kid with no ties to espionage or whatever it was they were entangled in. And so he went not to the source, but just to the right of it.

His Uncle Bart.

…

Sitting in the kitchen with a plate of four sandwiches, all expertly made by his favorite nephew, Bart Allen was in food heaven. So engrossed in his meal, he hardly questioned why it was Connor had called him over for an emergency meeting. As fast as he was, his brain sometimes took a slower route; especially when food was involved. He was mid-bite when he asked suddenly, “Oh man, you didn’t knock up a mamacita, did you?”

He looked horrified, but that didn’t stop Connor from laughing at him.

“What? No!” He paused and then smirked. “I took care of that last year.”

Bart blinked. “Huh?” he asked meekly.

With a snort, Connor shook his head. “You’re too easy, Uncle Bart.”

With a sigh of relief, Bart shook his head. “Don’t scare me like that!”

Chuckling, Connor leaned forward, resting his arms on the island table before him. “It’s nothing like that… I just thought, you know, since everything at the benefit with my parents and stuff…” He eyed Bart suspiciously. “Look, something is going on and I need to know what it is.”

“Dude, you gotta be more specific. You know your parents, there’s _always_ something going on,” he hedged, looking anywhere but at his nephew.

“Come on… I’m not stupid. They didn’t even flinch when ten guys in black and holding AK-47’s showed up at a charity event… That’s not normal.”

Bart glared. “Who says what’s normal anyway?”

Connor blinked. “I’m not a kid…”

Pursing his lips, he sighed. “Yeah, you are. You’re _sixteen_ , Connor.”

“So?”

“So?” He laughed humorlessly. “You’re asking questions you’re not ready to know the answer to, all right?”

“No…” Annoyed, he shook his head. “Who gets to tell me when I’m ready?” He threw his hands up. “Something isn’t right and I don’t know if my parents are like super spies or what, but I deserve to know!”

Bart scoffed. “They’re super something, but it ain’t spies. Trust me, kid.” He stared at him seriously. “You’ll know when you know.” Picking up his plate, he stood from his seat. “Tell your mom I’ll bring her plate back later.” And with that, he turned and left the room.

Sometimes, he swore his uncle had super speed. He was always there one minute and gone the next.

Regardless, Connor still didn’t know what was up with his parents, but he was going to find out.

…

It wasn’t until he was seventeen that the pieces fell into place.

He’d put the mystery of his parents on the backburner for awhile when he found himself in a relationship. Something about winning over a girl was more attractive than the elusive wonder about his parent’s side-business.

Her name was Aubrey, but everybody just called her Bree. She was a year younger and she had a laugh that always made his gut clench and his heart hammer. Beautiful and smart, she had a way of meeting him head-on in every conversation. Witty and sarcastic, she kept him on his toes. For awhile, his life revolved around Bree and he forgot all about the questions he’d once had concerning his parents. All he wanted was to spend his time with this girl who made him feel like he was on top of the world. He’d had girlfriends before; none of them had really lasted long. Sometimes he wondered if girls were only interested in the money or the name or even the popularity that came with being his girl. He didn’t want to be arrogant about it, but he was captain of the soccer team and friends with most people. He ran with the crowd that he guessed a lot of people would want to be a part of. It had come easy for him, he supposed, it’s just who he grew up with all along.

Bree wasn’t like that though. She didn’t seem to care if he had money or who his friends were and she didn’t fawn over his dad like he was anything more than Mr. Queen.

So he got sidetracked and instead of paying attention to what his parents were doing or why they didn’t seem to fear the darkness of others, he spent his time with Bree.

Until one night he and Bree were leaving the theatre after watching some corny monster/zombie movie, and while they walked hand-in-hand toward his car, of which he’d spent the last four years saving up for, her purse got snatched. It was just a split-second and then he was chasing down some guy in torn jeans and a dark hoodie, not even caring that he was running into the very dark and not entirely friendly grounds of Star City park. He was gaining on the guy when out of nowhere he stopped. Turning, edgy and paranoid, the guy took out a knife and started slashing at the air. “Get back!”

Halting, Connor held his hands up. “Just gimme the purse.”

The guy laughed. “I gotta eat, kid. You ain’t getting it back.”

With a sigh, Connor shook his head. “Then take the money and leave the rest…” He could always replace Bree’s cash with some of his own, it wasn’t a big loss.

But then, the guy paused, eyes narrowing. “Hey, I know you.”

A chill ran down his spine. If this guy said the name _Queen_ , he was in serious trouble.

“Little late to be in the park, don’t you think?” a new voice called out.

Suddenly, Connor turned, and found himself surrounded.

Cursing in his head, he suddenly remembered his mother telling him that he should _never_ cut through the park, for _anything_. But in his haste to get Bree’s purse back, he hadn’t paid attention to where he was going. And the guys around him looked like spiders reeling in their latest prey. Caught in their web, he really didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t completely defenseless; growing up with the parents he had he’d learned to kick ass when he needed to. But he was only one guy and there were six surrounding him, all with weapons.

Shit.

“Hey… Do you recognize this kid?” the first guy asked, still staring at him wonderingly. “Looks familiar.”

“That’s the Queen kid,” somebody else replied, sounding giddy now. “He’s worth _billions_ …”

The dark laughter that followed should’ve scared him, but in the end it only served to piss him off.

And then somebody was coming at him, obviously thinking they could just take him down and return him for some kind of reward.

As soon as a hand touched his shoulder, he attacked. Grabbing the man’s wrist, he twisted it hard before whirling around, slamming his forehead down hard on the man’s nose and kneeing him in the gun. As he went down, another attacked. Connor side-stepped the knife aimed for his gut and hammered his elbow down on the man’s arm, making him drop his weapon before he twisted the arm around his back until the guy cried out in pain. Kicking him out of the way, satisfied as he hit the ground, he turned to take on the other four, who all now realized it was better to rush as a group instead.

Before they could get to him, however, an arrow whizzed past and took one of them right off their feet, flying backwards until he was sprawled out and groaning on the ground.

“What the—“

A man dressed in green leather and carrying a bow and arrow dropped down at Connor’s side. “Six against one… Looks like the odds are a little tipped to one’s favor.”

The three remaining men looked at each other warily before turning and running.

The hero in the weird leather get-up smirked. “Wimps.” Turning, he stared at Connor darkly. “Care to explain what you’re doing in the park this late at night?”

Instead of replying, Connor circled him to snatch up the purse left on the ground. “Doing my civil duty,” he muttered. “You?”

“Something along the same lines,” he replied wryly.

Connor snorted. “Green Arrow, right?”

“Guilty.”

Crossing his arms, Connor looked him up and down. “So you’re the good guy?”

Arrow glanced at the men on the ground, now trying to crawl away. “According to some.”

Pursing his lips, Connor showed his dislike for half-answers. “And you just happened to be in the park?”

“I saw you chasing down the purse-snatcher… Thought I’d make sure you had it handled.”

Pride bruised, he replied, “Yeah, well, I _did_.”

Green Arrow grinned. “Never hurts to have back-up.”

Connor cocked a brow and then purposely looked around. “So where’s yours?”

With a light chuckle, Arrow lifted his hand and touched his ear. “Arrow to Tower, package is in good hands.”

Blinking, he shook his head. “Did you just call me a package?”

Apparently not listening to him, Arrow had his head cocked to the side as he listened to whatever was being said in his ear. “Right… ETA ten minutes.” Finally turning back to him, he said, “You’re gonna have to come with me.”

“What?” he scoffed. “Look, buddy, I appreciate the help, but my girlfriend is currently waiting in some empty parking lot hoping I didn’t just get shanked.”

“So we’ll stop there first,” Arrow said simply.

“If this is some weird ransom trap, you should know that my parents are smarter than the average crook,” he warned, glaring.

“Not a ransom ploy, Scout’s honor.” With a grin, he tucked his bow behind his shoulder. “So let’s go reassure Bree and then we can go.”

Connor stepped back away from him, suspicious. “How’d you know her name?”

Green Arrow sighed, shoulders slumping.

Connor looked around him, noticing that they were now seemingly alone in the park. “Look, whatever you were planning, forget it.” And with that, he took off, running out of the park so quickly he was sure nobody could catch up. Five minutes later, out of breath and paranoid, he was hugging his worried girlfriend and wondering just why the hell Green Arrow, a supposed good guy, would know anything about him.

Distracted, he dropped Bree off at home, half-heartedly kissing her goodnight before he headed back to his house. His mind was running off every scenario under the sun and he was still confused as hell. Parking his car next to his mom’s, he locked it up and pocketed the keys before walking inside, where he got the third shock of his night.

Sitting on his couch, drinking coffee and chatting with his mom as if everything was normal, was Green Arrow.

“What the _hell!_ ” he exclaimed, slamming the door and walking into the living room.

Hopping up from her seat, Chloe reached out to soothe him. “Sweetie, it’s okay… I know him.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t the one with Creepy Leather Dude in a dark park a half hour ago!”

“Okay, creepy isn’t the word I’d use,” Arrow replied.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Will you sit down? Please? We can explain.”

“We?” he asked, warily taking a seat across from them.

And with no further ado, Green Arrow took off his glasses, pushed back his hood, and flicked off his voice distorter, revealing that he was none other than Oliver Queen.

Wide-eyed, Connor shook his head. “No. Freaking. Way.”

“Yes way,” his dad replied, smirking.

Turning to his mom, his mouth gaped unintelligibly. “So… all this time… He was… and you were…”

Clasping her hands together, Chloe nodded. “Green Arrow and Watchtower… Leaders of the Justice League…”

Information overload had Connor falling back in his seat with a bewildered expression. “ _What?_ ”

Sitting forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees, Oliver half-smiled. “I was mid-twenties and felt like I could do a lot more for the world then what I was…” With a shrug, he glanced at Chloe. “She was a reporter who could hack better than anybody else alive… She joined ranks when I was just starting out with my team…”

Chloe reached across, covering his hands with hers. “I run communications, occasionally go in on jobs, but mostly I’m the eyes and ears of the League. I keep everybody alive and out of harms way while they take down the bad guys from the inside…” She smiled gently. “We probably should have told you, but… We wanted you to grow up as normal as possible… Knowing your parents are superheroes on their off time puts a bit of a kink in that.”

Rubbing his temples, Connor shook his head. “So when you got hurt, when I was twelve…”

Oliver and Chloe exchanged a look.

“We needed her to come in with us… We couldn’t get through the firewall and she was the only one who could… On the way out, we were attacked, she got hurt…” His face morphed suddenly, as if the moment was happening all over again, the agony so obvious. “It was the last time she was allowed on a mission.”

“Allowed,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I _chose_ to stay out of the field as much as possible.”

Oliver only smiled.

“And that night… At the benefit…” He looked back and forth between them. “You guys called in the League?”

Chloe nodded. “We have a transmitter should we ever run into trouble. Your dad set off the alarm and they came in to help. Problem solved.”

Connor stared ahead, still trying to process it all. “All those years I called you guys my heroes… you really _were_.”

They smiled warmly.

He frowned. “And you’ve been lying to me for seventeen years.”

Chloe grimaced. “We prefer _misinforming_.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please! I asked you guys and you wouldn’t tell me.”

“You thought we were spies, we told you we weren’t… We just didn’t _specify_ ,” Oliver reminded.

“Didn’t specify that you’re actually masked vigilantes saving people!”

“Semantics.”

Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily. “If it wasn’t weird enough that I’m a son of billionaires or that my parents are still grossly in love… Now you guys have to be _superheroes_ too!?”

“Sorry?” Chloe murmured, wincing.

“Why is it wrong that we love each other?” Oliver muttered, frowning.

“It’s just _weird!_ ”

“Which part?”

“I dunno!” He threw his hands up. “All of it!”

“Okay…” Chloe chewed her lip. “Well, we can’t really change most of it… We could give the money away and turn in the superhero badge, but we’d still be in love…”

Scoffing, he shook his head. “I know… I just… I mean, I don’t even want you guys to do that.” Frowning, his crossed his arms over his chest. “Even if everybody else things you guys are defective, I like that you guys still love each other… And I suppose having superhero parents isn’t a _bad_ thing, it’ll just… take some getting used to.”

Oliver grinned slowly. “Great, so all that’s left is donating our billions.”

Connor looked less than impressed. “Shut up.”

“Hey, watch it, your dad is seriously deadly when in Arrow mode,” Chloe teased.

“Yeah, all that green leather looks might daunting.”

Oliver feigned offense. “Hey! It takes a lot of work to look this good _and_ fight crime.”

Laughing, Chloe shook her head at him. “Ego… All these years and it’s never waned.”

Smiling, Connor rolled his eyes. “You guys are gonna start flirting now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Oliver replied, staring adoringly at his wife.

“Great… I’m heading to bed,” he muttered, standing up.

Chloe hopped in front of him, stopping him. “So you’re not upset with us?” she asked, worriedly.

“I’m… stunned,” he admitted. “But kinda happy the mystery is finally solved.”

With a sigh of relief, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him. “You come from good stock,” she murmured against his ear. “I heard about your ‘save the damsel and chase the robber’ moment.” Drawing back, she cupped his face. “All we ever wanted was for you to be safe and happy.”

As Oliver stepped up behind her, his arm falling around her waist, Connor thought it was kind of funny that even dressed in green leather he still fit with his wife just right.

“I am, you know,” he told them. “Totally safe and really happy.”

Kissing his mom’s cheek and accepting the ruffle to his hair that his dad gave him, Connor left for his room.

So yeah, his parents weren’t really _normal_.

They loved each other deeply, spent most of their money helping others, doted on their son with unending support and love, and, oh, yeah, they played superheroes behind their every day lives.

And maybe he didn’t have the most normal life and others found it kind of odd, but he loved it. He loved that there was nothing that could tear his parents apart, he loved that whatever happened they would always take of each other and him, and that when push came to shove, Connor Queen had the Justice League to back him up. So he could live without the divorced or bickering parents and the normal childhood. If he wasn’t going to be an international spy or a businessman, he at least had a backup plan. Connor Queen – superhero. Yeah, he kinda liked the ring of that.


	106. The Road From Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois Lane puts her underused matchmaking skills to use…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #039 - Trust

Lois Lane let herself into his apartment without calling beforehand or even alerting him to her presence. She wasn’t self-conscious as she leaned against the doorway to see him bench pressing in nothing but a pair of dark sweats. While her ex was in the past for a reason, she couldn’t deny the man had always been drop dead gorgeous. Lifting a brow, she cleared her throat, amused when he only glanced back at her. There was no startling him, unfortunately.

Sitting up, he wiped himself down with a towel and rose. “To what do I owe this random appearance?” he wondered, passing her to make his way to the kitchen.

“I can’t stop in and see a friend?”

He glanced back at her, amused. “Since you and Clark hooked up you’ve been harder to find than Carmen Sandiego.”

She rolled her eyes. “Cute.”

“I like to think so.” Stopping at his fridge, he dragged out a couple bottles of water, tossing one in her direction.

“Okay, so I may have an alternative interest…” She grinned, popping the cap on her water. “I just wanted to stop by and get your input on Chloe’s new man.”

He paused. And the action cost him half a bottle of water drained on his chest. Frowning, he wiped himself clean while she snorted at his distraction.

“Her new _what_?” he repeated, blinking in confusion.

“Man. Boyfriend. Love toy,” she listed, shaking her head at him. “I figured she’d already told you.”

“Uh, no…” His lips pursed. “Can’t say I was informed.”

“Hm, well…” She smirked. “Guess I’ll be the first to let you in on the news.”

He cocked a brow. “What’s there to tell? Her last two boyfriends were complete opposites, anything in between must be vanilla.”

“Not this guy… He is _built_.” She looked him up and down. “Kinda like you.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear,” he muttered sarcastically. “Because that’s the first thing I ask about when talking about my… Sidekick’s new love interest.”

Ignoring him, she continued with his many attributes. “He’s handsome and funny and independently wealthy. No police record and his background came up clean. No children, no ex-wives, and no history of turning into jealous monsters… So far, he’s a keeper.”

Scowling, Oliver nodded. “Yeah, sounds like it. Is that all?”

Lois feigned disinterest, walking around the room, looking at this or that. “I’m just surprised she hasn’t told you yet. I thought you two were getting pretty tight lately. Now that Clark’s out of the picture, it looks like you were taking up the pillar of support roll she needed.”

Oliver’s face darkened. “Yeah, well, we don’t exactly have sleepovers and talk about our current crushes.”

“Whoa, down boy,” she told him, frowning. “Way to sound like I just took your favorite toy away and gave it to the neighbor kid.”

Scowling, he shrugged. “It’s been a long day… If that’s all you wanted to talk about…?” He lifted his eyebrows, glancing purposefully at the door.

Lois scoffed. “Seriously?”

His lips pursed. “I have things to do.”

“What, like brood yourself stupid?” Crossing her arms over her chest, she pinned him with a hard stare. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

“About?” he asked boredly.

“You’re totally in love with her!”

He stared at her, frowning. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Grinning now, she stalked toward him. “You’re head over leather boots for her.”

The only emotion he let show now was irritation, which really only made her smile. “She’s a friend, a very good one.”

“Fine, play the denial card all you want. But you and I both know that deep down, you’ve got a soft spot for your little Sidekick…” Cheekily, she winked at him before turning on her heel and walking toward the elevator.

“Hey,” he called after her.

She paused, looking back questioningly.

“This guy she’s seeing…” He frowned. “What’s his name?”

“Why?” she queried, smirking. “Background check or scare him away tactics?”

He only lifted a brow at her.

Coyly, she replied, “Andrew,” and stepped onto the elevator.

“Andrew _what?_ ” he snapped after her.

“Ask Chloe!” she laughed.

An hour later, he was pacing outside Chloe’s apartment.

The door flew open with an amused Chloe staring back at him. “Were you planning on coming inside or what?” She cocked a brow at him as he stopped suddenly and turned toward her, glaring. “Hey, I gave you enough time to work it out on your own,” she replied. “I’ve been watching you pace on my security monitors for like a half hour.” Stepping out of the doorway, she nodded for him to follow her inside.

And grumbling, he did so.

Yanking his jacket off, he tossed it to the far couch and continued his pacing inside her apartment.

Pursing her lips to keep from smiling, she poured them each a cup of coffee and held it up for him to take as he passed her by. While still caught up in his head, he took the offered drink and continued on in his back and forth walking.

“Anything I can help with?” she finally asked, brows lifted.

Stopping, he turned toward her. “I wanna meet him.”

Forehead wrinkled, she shook her head slowly. “Who?”

“Andrew,” he bit out.

“Oh…” She lifted a shoulder. “Okay. When?”

“That’s it?” He frowned. “You don’t want to know _why_?”

She sipped her coffee slowly. “Not really. To be honest, I didn’t think you’d care. That’s why I didn’t tell you about it earlier.”

“Not care?” He stared at her incredulously. “This isn’t just a matter of _safety,_ Chloe. How am I supposed to trust him with my… Watchtower!?”

She looked around curiously. “Do you mean the building-Watchtower or the _me_ -Watchtower?”

He threw his arms up. “What do you think?”

“I think you have a lot more going on in that head of yours than I know about,” she mused. “Care to enlighten me?”

“I just…” Rubbing his face, he sighed. “No, I’m not going to do this… I didn’t think I’d _have_ to… I thought we were on the same page here but obviously…” He laughed sarcastically. “I’ve been fooling myself.”

Worried, Chloe crossed the room, lifting her hand to press against his chest. “Ollie… I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Covering her hand in his, he shook his head. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, Sidekick.”

“Listen…” She stared up at him, her concern obvious. “If it’s worrying you so much, let’s get dinner tomorrow night. I’ll bring Andrew and you can interrogate him until he’s blue in the face. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he managed, nodding. “Sure. Tomorrow night.”

“Good.” She smiled. “Well, since you’re here already, you wanna join me on the roof? I believe you were going to enlighten me on the constellation Lyra.” Taking his hand before he could protest, she dragged him up the stairs and out the roof exit. There, sitting amongst the darkness, was the patio couch she’d had moved up for her to sit and see the sky. From this high up, she could actually make out the stars without the lights of the city obscuring them. And as was their custom these last few months, Oliver sat next to her to share the stories of the many constellations. Having grown up in Star City, he knew them by heart.

“Which one is it?” she wondered, bright eyes scanning the skies above.

Staring at her a moment, he felt warmth in his chest over her enthusiasm but it was dashed just as quickly when the reason he’d come by was remembered.

Sighing, he looked up, pointing out the shape of the lyre. “There… Do you see it?”

Her brows furrowed as she tried to pin-point where he meant.

Moving closer to her, his cheek pressed to hers, he moved her with him as he pointed it out. “Right there.”

She breathed in excitably. “I see it.” Turning her eyes toward him, she asked, “Tell me the story?”

He drew away, immediately missing the warmth of her skin pressed against his. “The lyre was given to the Greek Orpheus by the God Apollo. It was said that he could play so beautifully the stones would weep over his music…”

Turning in her seat, she wrapped her arms around her bent legs and stared at him, eyes falling closed only as his voice soothed her.

“When his wife Eurydice died, Orpheus went to the underworld for her. And upon moving Hades’ wife Persephone to tears with his songs, Hades made him a deal. He could take his wife out of the underworld as long as he didn’t look back at her until they were in the light of the sun.” He licked his lips, staring at the beautiful picture she made. The wind softly blew tendrils of her blonde hair from her cheeks, making it dance breezily around her head.

“So, Orpheus led her out and when he felt the sun, he turned to see her. But Eurydice hadn’t reached the sun yet meaning he broke the deal… And so she was lost forever.”

Brows pinched, Chloe frowned. “He couldn’t wait?”

He shook his head. “He loved her... He thought they were free… He just wanted to see her again.”

Opening her eyes, she stared up at him. “What’d he do after? How’d he survive that?”

“Well…” Oliver sighed. “For the rest of his life, he refused every woman who offered themselves, anyone who tried to win his love… Until one day a group of women he’d turned down attacked him, tearing him apart, and throwing his head and lyre into the river. Apollo then intervened and instead buried Orpheus’ head at the foot of Mount Parnassus, home of the Muses, and placed his lyre up in the sky…”

Sighing sadly, Chloe moved across the bench, laying her head on his shoulder. “Do you think it’s possible? To love someone so much you’d _literally_ go to hell and back to save them?”

Stroking her hair from her temple, he nodded. “Yeah… If you love them enough, you’ll do anything for them.”

Grinning, she looked up at him. “Except wait for them to join you in the sun.”

“Patience is a virtue,” he replied, smiling.

Arm around his waist, she squeezed him before asking, “Another one?”

He laughed. “You’re insatiable.”

“It’s your voice,” she admitted. “It’s intoxicating.”

He grinned. “Should I be flattered?”

“Mm… Very.”

They spent the night wrapped around each other on her roof, while he recited every story he knew about every constellation he saw. And when she fell asleep, cuddled up under his arms, he picked her up and brought her to her bed. She slept so peacefully, untainted, and it was with regret that he kissed her forehead and left. Tomorrow, he would meet Andrew, and he’d make sure he was worthy.

…

Dinner arrived entirely too soon. While waiting at Chloe’s favorite restaurant, his leg bounced erratically. He kept waiting for them to walk inside and for him to have to pretend he wasn’t about to physically tear apart whatever guy was on her arm. Finally, when it seemed like he could get no more impatient, he saw the hostess walking them to his table. He stood, even as his knees shook beneath him. God, he couldn’t remember being this nervous since… _ever_. Meeting the potential love of Chloe’s life wasn’t something listed high on his list of life goals. Especially not since he’d found himself thinking she was his own.

He forced himself to smile instead of grimace as they stopped in front of him.

Chloe was grinning. “Andrew, this is Oliver,” she introduced, motioning between them.

Andrew nodded his head, holding his hand out for Oliver to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

Was it completely pathetic to be happy as his tight grip made Andrew wince?

Chloe took a seat in between them, completely oblivious to the tension as she scanned the menu.

“So… Andrew,” Oliver said, leaning forward in his seat. “Tell me about yourself.”

“All right…” He glanced at Chloe and then back at Oliver. “I run a small computer software business.”

“Don’t be modest,” Chloe intervened, rolling her eyes. “Before we know it, he’ll be bigger than Mac.”

Andrew smiled appreciatively. “She exaggerates.”

“Problem of hers,” Oliver replied acerbically. “What else?”

“Uh,” Andrew frowned uncomfortably. “Well, I teach little league on the weekends and I’m a volunteer firefighter… That’s actually how Chloe and I met. She just happened to be there at the right time, really.”

“Yeah, another problem of hers. Danger has a way of following her around. It’s a nuisance really.” Oliver stared at him. “You ever been in trouble with the police?”

“No.” He shook his head abruptly. “I’ve got a clean record. I have a history of blending into the background.”

“Hm.” Oliver’s lips thinned. “Any children? Ex-wives?”

“Oliver!” Chloe interrupted, staring at him with wide-eyes. “Isn’t that a little personal?”

“No, it’s fine,” Andrew reassured. “No. No children and no ex-wives. I’m not really big on the dating field. I spend a lot of my time working.” He laughed lightly. “Another thing, I guess, Chloe and I have in common.”

“Yeah, aside from the dead ex-husband thing, you two are regular clones of each other,” he muttered sarcastically.

Chloe glared at him. “Do you need a time out?”

He frowned in her direction before turning his attention back to Andrew. “Drug history? Any bad habits that might pop up? Murderous tendencies or exposure to any green rocks?”

“Oh my…” She rubbed her forehead, sighing heavily.

“No…” Now Andrew just looked confused. “I had anxiety in my teens, but I’m fine now.”

Oliver scowled. “So you expect me to believe that you’re just some regular guy with no truckload of baggage behind you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“So you wouldn’t mind taking a drug test?”

“’Kay, that’s it.” Chloe threw down her napkin. “What is _wrong_ with you? When I said you could interrogate him, I didn’t think you’d take it this far.”

“What?” Oliver crossed his arms over his chest. “I just asked a few questions. So far, he’s coming out clean. Almost _too_ clean, really.”

“So you’d be happier if he’d done something wrong in his life?” she exclaimed.

“How is he supposed to relate when he’s lived this picture-perfect life?”

“I tried marijuana once when I was sixteen!” Andrew blurted out loudly. “It was just _once_ and I didn’t really like it. It made me feel funny!”

Oliver blinked at him and then turned to Chloe. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” she asked, her eyes wide with confusion.

“This!” Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. “Look, I was there through the whole you-and-Jimmy disaster and then the Davis thing that was so effed up I still can’t figure out what you saw in him. And when Clark screwed you over, I stuck around to help you pick up the pieces. I was there through all the tears and all the nightmares and I didn’t turn my back on you like you expected. But I swear to god, Chloe, I won’t sit by and see you date some clean-as-they-come Wally Cleaver when I’ve been in love with you so long it physically _hurts_.”

She stared at him, her mouth gaping. “Ollie…”

“I won’t go through this again,” he breathed, licking his lips. “I refused to stand by and watch you marry Jimmy, knowing that the relationship was doomed from the minute I met him. You keep looking for this perfect guy in all the wrong places. You’re not like them! They don’t fit into your world. You really wanna be with somebody who blends in when you do nothing but stand out?” He was so angry, he was actually shaking. And at the same time, the sadness of the situation was overwhelming.

“Oliver…” She reached for his hand, squeezing it when he tried to pull away. “I’m not dating Andrew.”

He blinked, his heart skipped a beat and then he turned to look at Andrew, who was shifting in his seat uncomfortably. “What?”

“Andrew offered to help add on to my tower set-up. He’s been building software far beyond any I’ve seen before and he can equip us with the kind of technology nobody else has…” She smiled gently. “When you wanted to meet him, I thought it was because you didn’t trust anybody with our information, I brought him by to show you that he’s a trustworthy guy.”

He was confused; _beyond_ that even. “But Lois said…”

Chloe laughed lightly, shaking her head knowingly. “Of course she did… She came by the other day wondering why we weren’t together already. I said I wasn’t sure how you felt about me and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship over some romantic confusion. I’ve done that enough in my life.”

Leaning forward, he shook his head. “I value our friendship, Sidekick. But I thought it was pretty clear how I felt about you.”

“Admittedly, sitting under the stars each night sharing love stories seems like a dead-give away,” she admitted, frowning. “But I’ve been riding the unrequited train most of my life, so I’m a little more careful about any assumptions I might make these days.”

Oliver shook his head. “I’ve been an idiot.”

“A jealous, possessive, intimidating _idiot_ ,” she replied.

“Thank you…” he said, smiling. “Because I wasn’t _already_ sorry enough.”

She lifted a shoulder. “If you’d said something earlier…”

“I was under the impression you were halfway in love with this guy. The fact that I didn’t even _know_ about him already pushed me over the edge.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Chloe waved her hand dismissively. “Just last night you were telling me about Orpheus and Eurydice and how you felt that kind of love could be real… _This_ is how you prove it?”

He frowned, cocking a brow. “I can’t exactly walk you out of the underworld here, can I?”

“No…” She grinned slowly. “But you can walk out of this restaurant and trust that I’ll follow.”

His brows narrowed. “And if I don’t look back?”

“Then we give this a try,” she said easily. “And you put all those reservations you have on the back burner.”

“So I have to believe that you love me enough that you’ll follow me out of a restaurant? Odds are pretty high.” Turning, he stared at her seriously. “When I walk out of here, I expect that your following means that you love me too… Not only that, but that you’re willing to give all of yourself to me. Your fragile heart too. So if you follow, you have to know that this is everything. That walking out those doors means you and I are putting all of ourselves into this… No lies, complete trust, about _everything_.”

She nodded. “Okay…” Standing up, she took his hand and squeezed it. “Don’t look back.”

He stared at her, the weight of this promise weighing heavy. Turning, he passed the table and walked toward the exit.

It wasn’t until he was moving that he realized he’d just put all of his faith in her. That if she didn’t follow, if she couldn’t commit to what he was asking, then they were done. Their possibilities with each other were lost. He couldn’t hear her footsteps over the din of everyone else in the restaurant. The desire to turn around, to make sure she would really go with him, was incredible. As he stepped out the door, he paused, waiting beneath the light of a lamppost. Everything inside him wanted to turn around, to release his fears and just see her there, standing before him, promising him everything he’d ever wanted.

He closed his eyes, refused to look. The strength it took made his hands ache as he curled them into tight fists. She would come, he had to believe that.

For months they’d played this game, so close but so far. Holding her but never having her. Loving her but feigning it was all friendship. And now was their chance, if only she believed in them as much as he did. Had he said enough? Done enough? Did she know how much she meant to him?

And then… A hand, touching his.

All of the air escaped him and he turned, saw her standing there beside him, lit ethereally by the dim glow of the street light above.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

“Hey,” he replied, grinning.

She chewed her lip. “So you love me?”

He nodded. “Yeah…”

“Good.” Threading their fingers, she leaned her head against his arm. “While walking through hell and back isn’t exactly the adventure I was hoping for… If it meant having you, I’d do it.”

Turning toward her, he wrapped an arm around her small waist. “The road to finding you was hell enough… Let’s just enjoy the rewards.”

Laughing, she tipped her head back and met his lips as they descended toward her own. And there, where Orpheus had failed, Oliver did not. Losing Chloe simply wasn’t an option. He sent a little thank you out to Lois, wherever she was, for putting her underused matchmaking skills to work. Sneaky as her plans were, the purpose was truly appreciated.


	107. Arrow Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best way to ruin an opponent was to aim for their heart and Oliver Queen’s wasn’t located in his chest, but in a snarky blonde sidekick.

Maybe it was bad timing or maybe fate had a cruel sense of humor. Maybe he should’ve been more careful and maybe he shouldn’t have started it in the first place. There were a lot of maybes in an equation he wished never even came to fruition. The would’ve, could’ve, should’ve game was in full play but given the timing, he had to assume it was needed.

The old him would’ve been buried in a bottle by now; eyes deep in liquor and putting on a brave face despite feeling like complete shit. Instead, he hadn’t looked twice at the bottle and the biggest maybe had to do with whether he’d finally learned his lesson.

He made a deal, a long time ago, when he’d been a different man on a very different path. And when Dark Archer came to collect, he didn’t want to hear excuses or try to understand the new Oliver. He had only one mission then; destroy Oliver Queen. Oliver wished it was harder to do than his old mentor made it look, and given that he was still alive, maybe it was. But the man knew how to get to the very root of things and so he would set his eyes on the women in Oliver’s life. One in particular became the breaking point.

Standing in his high-rise apartment, wishing things were different, Oliver was keeping tight-lipped as his guest waited patiently for him to spill already.

“I’ve got all night,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “You’ll have to tell me eventually, so you might as well just get it over with.”

She was tenacious and curious and in the end, he knew, she was even more stubborn than him. It wasn’t as if she didn’t already know all of his secrets, so what was one more? So he told her everything; from his history with Dark Archer to the latest in trouble between them.

“He’ll aim for whoever’s close to me…” he admitted darkly. “My weak links.”

She scoffed. “No offense, but your _weak links_ are all really strong women.”

He frowned. “Two of whom happen to get caught by the bad guy entirely too much.”

Pursing her lips, she shrugged. “Yes, but you’ll note that we happen to get _out_ of those sticky predicaments as well.”

“With help.”

She glared. “Not _always_.”

He found his first smile in days. “Is this how you plan on cheering me up?”

Rounding the couch, she walked toward him with a grin. “Who said I was cheering you up? Maybe I just enjoy arguing.”

Brows rising, he nodded. “You _do_.”

Chuckling, she stopped a few inches from him, her expression becoming more serious. “Ollie… This guy doesn’t _know_ you… Not really.” Staring up at him wonderingly, she asked, “What are you more afraid of? That he’s here to collect or that he’s _right_?”

Sighing, he reached out and touched a golden curl of her hair. “Who says I’m afraid?”

Rolling her eyes, she pressed her palms to his chest. “You don’t think I can read you?”

He half-smiled. “Better than anyone.”

She nodded. “So listen to me…” Pausing, she stared up at him until she was sure she had his full attention. “Dark Archer is wrong… You’re a better man than he ever expected you to be. And whatever you agreed to before, it’s null and void. Because _that_ Oliver _is_ dead… And _this_ Oliver…” Her hand covered his heart. “Is very much alive and doing the _right_ thing.”

His palm slid across her hand, squeezing, and with a sigh of relief he leaned down until their foreheads were pressed together. “Thank you…” he murmured quietly.

She said nothing, instead wrapping her arm around his waist and hugging him close. For a few silent moments, they just held each other. It wasn’t until the clock chimed midnight, a sign that he was meant to be patrolling, that they drew apart.

She grinned. “Back to work you go, Green Hero.”

He chuckled under his breath before ducking his head low and catching her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. He couldn’t remember the exact moment their friendship became more, but with each passing moment he became more sure it would last. His mind kept telling him it was time to go, to get dressed in his gear and keep the people safe, but each time he meant to pull back, he’d lean back in and peck her lips once more.

With a laugh, she cupped his face and separated their mouths. “We can finish this in a few hours.”

Grinning, he nodded. Taking her wrist in his hand, he drew her hand down and kissed her palm. “Stay safe,” he told her before walking backwards toward his secret room.

She scoffed. “Please! I’ll be very safely cooped up in my tower while you’re parading around the city on thin wires and trading insults with bad guys.”

He laughed lightheartedly before changing into his gear, listening for the tell-tale signs as she took the elevator down from the penthouse.

Maybe he should’ve been paying more attention or maybe he shouldn’t have fallen for his faithful sidekick. But in the end, Dark Archer had witnessed the obvious display of affection from his perch on a nearby building, and while Oliver readied himself to go patrolling, Dark Archer was setting his sights on Green Arrow’s weak point.

When it was all over and she had a few stitches on her upper-arm to show for it, his first reaction was anger. At himself.

“Self-pity isn’t the answer,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.

There she was, sitting in the wake of disaster in her home, where she should feel the safest, with a bandage around her bicep and a stern expression on her face. She wasn’t even shook up.

“And what _is_?” he asked roughly, turning away from her.

“I can understand being angry… With _him_ … I can even understand being sad or scared, because there was a momentwhere I thought _maybe_ this was it.”

He whirled around, his face flushed with anger. “Don’t say that.”

She smiled sadly. “I can’t say it but you can feelit?” Standing, she crossed to him. “Ollie… I almost died.” She laughed humorlessly. “I won’t say it’s not a big deal, but I’ll admit I’m kinda used to it.”

He shook his head, turned away and brooded darkly, glaring at the broken glass and dried blood on her floor.

“You can’t change what happened,” she said from behind him. “And you can’t control what happens in the future…”

His head ducked low and he knew what she meant. Already he was wondering if she might be safer without him; if it was smarter to break this off between them.

Her hand touched his back; light, gentle, supportive. “So you either _face_ it… or you spend whatever time you have left _dreading_ it.”

And then she was gone, leaving him to think and consider and wonder about every outcome of the night.

If he hadn’t gotten there; if he hadn’t stopped it…

His eyes stung, his throat burned; his chest ached with the very _possibility_.

Dark Archer got it right in one… The best way to ruin an opponent was to aim for their heart and Oliver Queen’s wasn’t located in his chest, but in a snarky blonde who equaled him in every way.

With a dark scowl, he left her watchtower and went in search of Dark Archer. He would end this, now, tonight; forever. She was right, he couldn’t control the future. There would be others; many who would come for him or her and maybe, one day, they might succeed. But this one wouldn’t, Oliver would make sure of that. He wouldn’t stand by and let it happen; he would face it and fight it. Because he was the hero she thought him to be and he finally knew that. There would be no wallowing, no drinking, no avoidance; it was time he accepted himself and his fate as it was.

He was Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow, a hero and a vigilante, and fighter for good and justice. He had made his mistakes, he was human, but he would do everything in his power to make things right. It didn’t matter what others thought or believed, what mattered was what _he_ thought and how he dealt with it. The hero in his heart was a live and well, it was scuffed but on the mend. Now it was time to put it out there and get back to the roots he was built from. No more pity, no more apologizing. If Dark Archer thought he could take aim at this Arrow’s heart, he was dead wrong.

Watching from afar, a snarky Sidekick and proud lover watched on with a smile. Finally, her hero was back on his own two feet. Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t stumble again. But if, by chance, he did… She would be there to catch him.


	108. Business As Usual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To most, nothing had changed. But they knew different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #01 – Business As Usual

To most, nothing had changed. Everything appeared to be back on track and there was nothing to worry about aside from the usual world crisis. But they knew different; while the day was dedicated to hero business, catching the bad guy and saving the good, the nights were no longer filled with lonesome dreams of past fun. Oliver had made it his mission to show Chloe she could still have a good time and while it occasionally involved his bow and arrow, most nights it was just the two of them, whatever struck their fancy, and a night of laughter and warmth. She had no idea how much she missed the lighthearted days she’d once had until she couldn’t remember what they felt like.

“Sometimes… we have no idea what’s right in front us,” he told her, playing with her fingers as he held her hand against his stomach.

Out there, the world continued spinning on its axis, good and evil were at a constant war, and while they a million and three things to be doing, this was _their_ time.

“It’s all about balance,” he would remind her. “Can’t have good without bad, can’t have business without pleasure.”

So when the sun rose outside her bedroom window, sending colorful displays of light across her floor, she would rise and she would don the hero outfit, get her head in the game and play Watchtower to a group of heroes. But when the night fell and the computers were powered down, then she was _Chloe_ ; she was a woman who went on pizza dates with her friends and who shot a bow and arrow to let off steam and who made love with Oliver Queen until she was exhausted and smiling and _happy_.

He closed the curtains to keep it at bay a moment longer, but his fingers drawing on her back told her it was day already. He always did this; he liked to linger in the mornings, kick the sheets off and rest nude in their half-awake state. She rolled over, half-smiling and buried her face in his chest, nuzzling her nose against his warm skin. “What time’s it?” she murmured tiredly.

“Early; really early,” he replied, fingers stroking up and down her spine.

She sighed, grinning. “Liar.”

He huffed. “We should put it to a vote that our day not start ‘til noon.”

Chuckling, she opened her eyes to stare up at him, amused. “And whatever would we _do_ with all that free time?” she purred.

With a smirk, he rolled her on to her back and slid firmly between her legs. “We’d have _fun_ , of course.”

“Mmm…” Reaching up, she feathered her fingers through his hair. “I like your kind of fun.”

With a light laugh, he bent to meet her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. Sighing, resolve bending quickly, she wrapped her arms around him and slid her legs around his waist, inviting him in.

Full, large hands sliding down her sides, he hooked them around her thighs and tugged her closer. This morning was looking to be a very nice and slow wake-up that would leave her thrumming with the aftereffect. But all was not to be as soon there was a knock at the door; no doubt Clark needing her assistance.

Lips parting, they sighed.

“Back to work,” she said, opening her eyes to look up at him once more.

He stared down at her, gaze wandering her face as if to memorize it. “Business as usual,” he agreed, but nuzzled her nose with his affectionately.

Rolling off her, he climbed out of bed and walked gloriously naked to her bathroom without bothering to grab clothes on the way. With a sigh of disappointment, she got up after him and reached for her robe. She’d figure out what Clark wanted, hopefully very fast, and then she’d join Oliver in the shower. While the morning, and her duties, had started, a little fun here or there couldn’t hurt. As long as she kept her head in the game she’d be fine; there was no point in her worrying about her heart, anyway. It was being well taken care of by a certain billionaire hero out to teacher her the joys of downtime.


	109. Be Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Oliver gets stuck in a board meeting over Valentine’s Day, he finds out Chloe’s had a less-than-stellar time of her own and comes back hoping he can make up for his absence and convince her of a few things along the way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #047 - Life  
>  **Spoilers** : Persuasion [9x13]  
> 

His idea of Valentine’s Day wasn’t a stuffy board meeting spent in the company of crusty old men that wouldn’t appreciate roses or chocolate. In fact, he had in mind a beautiful and snarky blonde that would more accommodate his humor and keep him on his toes. Instead he was left studying figures and arguing with people that always thought they knew better. No matter how old he got, how many good business decisions he made, they would always see him as a partying philanderer with no head for big business. He could care less, however, what they thought of him. Oliver had come a long way and while he could act the fool for whoever was watching, he was an intelligent and calculating man. Excelsior had honed his skills young and despite his many mistakes in the past, he was the CEO for good reason and he wouldn’t let anybody remove him from his position.

Today, however, he was cursing his inherited job as he would much rather have been in Metropolis wooing a certain stubborn woman into his company. She put up a good fight and she wore a shield around her heart that his arrows seemed to bounce right off, but never would he let it be said that he gave up easily. He sent her roses, two dozen, despite knowing tulips were her favorite. It was the flower of the day and he wanted her to know that he was thinking of her and on the most romantic day of the year too. He smiled to himself, thinking she likely rolled her eyes, trying her best not to grin but her lips would curl whether she wanted them to or not. He wouldn’t be back until the sixteenth and he’d have to make up for the loss of a traditional Valentine’s Day, even if she shrewdly argued they weren’t a good fit, especially not during this period of time.

“No offense, Sidekick, but I don’t think in a few weeks things will be any more tame,” he argued, cocking a brow.

She sighed, lifting a shoulder and walking away from him to try and focus on her computers. “Yeah, well, all the more reason not to start something then!”

He shook his head, followed after her and stared until she got fed up ignoring him. “What?” she grumbled.

He smiled. “Still pretending you don’t feel anything?”

She stared at him, lips pursing. “What I feel and what I do are two very different things, Oliver.”

Reaching out, he smoothed his thumb across her lower lip, easily rubbing the frown from her mouth. “Then I’ll have to change your mind.” It wasn’t a hope or possibility, it was a promise. And she didn’t reply, so instead he leaned across, kissed her temple lingeringly and then left her to her computers. She’d no doubt mull over everything he said and come up with some excuse for whatever she was feeling or doing about it. He’d gotten used to it; ever since that night in the Watchtower, when he’d made his intentions quite clear, she’d been skittish. From a woman so strong and stubborn, he’d been slightly surprised. But taking into account the volatile last few months, he understood her better than most and so he accepted that drawing her into what could be something great would take more work than he’d bargained. Used to getting his way, quick and without much hassle, especially where women were concerned, it was something of a bit of fun for him to actually have to put all of himself forward for it. But then, Chloe Sullivan was very much worth it.

He dropped by often, as was quite usual for him even before he’d let her know that what he wanted, what they could have, was definitely in sight. Now that she knew though, she was wary about him, her eyes constantly open and watching. He took in her suspicious nature with a grin; a hero who didn’t take into account every angle eventually got killed – it was just her training, her natural instinct. But he wasn’t bent on killing her; more, he wanted to do the exact opposite. He wanted to make her live again.

When Valentine’s Day rolled around, he had the whole thing planned. There would be wine and her favorite coffee flavored chocolates and he had reservations at a restaurant that she had a great affection for rather than one to impress her. She was well aware of how much money he had and what he could offer her; it was knowing her and accepting her that would help to drop her defenses. So he was ready to spread himself thin, do whatever it took, and get her to see that he wasn’t playing or bluffing or anything of the like; he was being honest and real and he wanted much, much more with her that just friendship.

The call came early that morning; before he’d even risen to do yoga in his exercise room and was fully awake via coffee. Work. Not so unusual. And with resignation, he had to postpone all the plans he had for her and their special day. Instead, he rose early and dragged out his luggage. He’d been gone a few days and knew she was still fast asleep so he couldn’t even explain himself to her. The last thing she’d want was for him to drag her out of bed with excuses; especially when her sleeping schedule was already too hectic. Much as he cared for her, she was a workaholic and while business was always on his mind, he was learning that fun had to come into the equation sometimes, just as much as sleep and eating and companionship.

He was boarding his jet before her alarm clock even rang and well into the air, already looking over business papers and cursing his bad luck. He’d called a private florist and paid a hefty tip just to make sure she got flowers. With a simple card – _I’ll make it up to you_. Nothing more than that; she’d know who they were from. And soon, he was eyes deep in all things Queen Industries and Luthorcorp related. Two straight days of long meetings and ordered in food and arguing until he was dizzy with the back and forth. Finally, as the night of the fifteenth fell, he was looking forward to sleeping in and then taking his jet home the next morning. With any luck, he could drag Chloe away from the Watch Tower the following night and win back a little of her affections before she convinced herself further that they weren’t going anywhere.

But just as he slid into his very large, very comfortable Hotel bed, his cell rang. Emil’s number flashed and while he wanted to ignore it, he couldn’t. Emergencies were a favorite of his team and Emil never called unless that was the problem.

Flipping it open, he heard alarms ringing in the background; the kind that Chloe had hooked up to her computers. Panic sliced through him painfully strong and he was wide awake and already reaching for his luggage to get dressed. “What’s wrong?”

“Chloe,” he said, his tone thick. “She’s gone off the deep-end and I have no idea why. One minute she was fine, the next she was powering everything down and telling me her responsibilities lay with Clark and nowhere else…” He sighed. “She’s got firewalls around firewalls around firewalls! I’m trying but when she wants to block somebody out she does it and she doesn’t hold back.”

Oliver’s mind raced with every reason under the sun that her sudden turnabout might’ve come from. He couldn’t help but feel a wince as the knowledge that despite everything she’d chosen Clark. Wasn’t that just the case with every woman he fell for? Even Mercy seemed to hold some unusual affectionate fascination with Clark Kent. Frowning, he shook his head. He knew Chloe and much as she was suffering lately, this wasn’t the kind of route she’d take. Unzipping his luggage, he dragged out pants and a shirt. “Do what you can. I’ll be there soon.” Hanging up, he tossed his phone away and ran his fingers through his hair. It looked like he’d be sleeping on his jet; there was no way he’d let this go through. If she was scared, be it from him or some other problem, he’d help her through it. He needed her; as a friend and a team member. And more than that, he needed her in his life, for better or worse, and whatever it took he’d get her back.

Funny, he thought wryly. He didn’t even really have her yet and he was already trying to convince her to let him keep her.

It took hours to get back to Metropolis and while he’d slept, it’d been restless. Climbing the stairs to the Watch Tower, he was hesitant to knock, worried she might be there and simply not answer, and all the same worried she wasn’t there and wouldn’t be coming back. With all his resources, he wondered if he’d even be able to find her. Chloe Sullivan had the intelligence and ability to hide from whoever she wanted but he’d pull out all the stops to find her and she knew it.

When he stepped inside, it was quiet. There were no alarms and the screens were buzzing with activity, but there was a loss of chaos that had been there when Emil called. He looked around, brow furrowed, and then spotted the roses he’d sent her, sitting bright and beautiful on the counter inside her inner-circle of work. He walked toward them, reached out to touch the velvety red petals. And then there was the familiar click of her heels and his shoulders, tense and tight, loosened as he realized she was there and seemingly okay. “You got them,” he said, half-smiling before he turned to look at her.

She paused in her walking, stared at him and then glanced away in a rare show of nerves. “Yes… They’re beautiful, thank you.”

He gave a short nod. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

She sighed and the weight of the last day or two looked like it was dragging her down. “Clark and meteor rock,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Apparently, as stubborn as I am, I can’t resist a persuasive drug that makes me do whatever he wanted; which was apparently that I put more of my attention on helping him.” She shook her head, almost looking annoyed with herself. “Needless to say I made my cousin cry, nearly destroyed years of Intel inside my computers, was ready to _kill_ Tess Mercer and then somehow ended up saving her life by using Kryptonite on Clark…” Eyes wide, she smiled with confusion. “You leave for two days and I went straight off the deep-end. You might want to invest in straitjackets for any future craziness.”

His brows rose. “Huh…” Blinking rapidly, he shook his head before crossing the room to see her. “And here I thought you’d just been suffering exhaustion, as was expected, and decided me and my band of heroes were no longer as important as Boy Scout.”

Her lips turned down in a stubborn frown. “This one-girl army of support isn’t going anywhere! You guys might drive a woman crazy with your lack of organization, but I have a lot of faith in you and I’m not leaving until you guys figure out this world-saving business once and for all.”

He grinned, taking pride in her support. “So this wasn’t you deciding to leave me… _us_ … for a certain blurred superhero?”

Chewing her lip, she turned her eyes away. “Ollie… Clark will always be my best friend and I’ll do whatever I can to help him, but… When I took up the title of Watchtower I was serious and I take all of this, all of you, very seriously.” Reaching out, she straightened the lapels of his jacket, smiling up at him warmly. “So don’t worry that billion-dollar head of yours, huh? I’m not going anywhere.”

He smiled, staring into her deep green eyes with more affection than she seemed to expect. He saw it dawn on her, the knowledge that his feelings were less than friendly. And as a rush of red filled her cheeks, her chin fell and her smile faded, looking as if she was ready to draw away and shrug the whole thing off. He caught her, covering her hands against his chest and keeping her in place.

“And me, Chloe?” he asked, eyes narrowing at her, wanting complete honesty. “Where exactly do I fit into this equation?”

She swallowed tightly, focusing her eyes on his chest rather than his face. “You’re the leader, Oliver. Green Arrow, justice-seeker and always-reliable source of friendship and help.”

Releasing one of her hands, he reached for her face, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear, tracing the shell delicately. “And what else am I?”

She pursed her lips, reluctant to answer.

“You know…” He grinned. “I had a whole night planned for us… Just me and you and all that corny Valentine cheer.”

Her saw her lips quirk and slowly, her gaze began to rise.

“Wine, dinner, flowers, candy… Whatever romantic gesture I could possibly think of.” He nodded gently. “But now I’m thinking I got it wrong.”

Her expression faded, her eyes catching his quickly. Something akin to hurt or disappointment filling them just as quickly as she shielded her face from showing too much emotion. “Is that right?” she asked, tugging her hand to try and get away from him.

He only squeezed, holding it tighter. “Yeah…” Brushing her cheek with his thumb, he stroked her skin affectionately, watching as her lashes fell to half mass, long and dark and framing her green eyes so perfectly. “Now I’m thinking all of that romantic stuff wasn’t needed. You’d have brushed it off anyway. Maybe a more direct approach…” He grinned, taking a step into her personal space, feeling the warmth of her body through layers of clothing. “Maybe I haven’t been as clear as I’ve meant to be.” His hand slid from her face, wrapping around the back of her neck, fingers stroking the short hairs there and tickling her nape tenderly. “So I’m only going to say this once, Sidekick… And I’d like an actual answer this time rather you turning your back and pretending we don’t fit as perfectly as we do.”

Her lips opened, obviously about to argue but the shake of his head stopped her.

She looked frustrated but she didn’t speak and he grinned, triumphant.

Taking her hand, still pressed to his chest, he slid it over a few inches until her fingers covered the thick fluttering of his heart beneath his shirt. “You feel that?” he asked, his voice low, penetrating.

She glanced at him briefly and then down at their hands, his pulse hammering at her fingertips. “Yes,” she whispered.

Licking his lips, he squeezed her neck slightly and she took it as her cue to look up at him, his gaze catching and holding hers firmly. He stared, waited until he was absolutely sure that she was listening, that she would really hear him this time rather than brush it off. And simply, without humor or teasing, he said, “Be mine.”

And she blinked, waited a breath and then smiled. “Okay.”

He laughed, nodding. “You’re not going to change your mind.”

She rolled her eyes to the side. “I figure you may have possibly earned your keep, but you should be well aware by now that I’m not your average woman.”

Smirking, he leaned forward until their mouths were mere inches apart. “It’s one of many reasons I’m standing here.”

His breath skittered across her lips and a shiver ran down her spine, awareness warming her eyes. “A wise person once told me we just had to see what’s right in front of us.”

“I get the feeling he’d been looking and not seeing for awhile…” He cocked a brow. “Open eyes, a whole lot of clarity… You get to appreciate the people that really matter.”

She smirked. “It’s good you’ve been less of a jackass lately or I would’ve taken this all for a line.”

He grinned. “It’s all in the timing, Sidekick.”

And with that, he bent to capture her lips, sealing a moment that was long in coming. Fingers buried in blonde hair, he slanted his lips across hers possessively, heatedly, taking in the taste of coffee and passion. She met him stroke for stroke; tongue and teeth never giving in to his own stubborn nature. It was no surprise they were tangled in a matter of seconds; him lifting her from the ground, arm like a steel band around her waist, her feet dangling and her arms wrapped tight around him. When breath had them parting on a gasp, lips still meeting in frenzied pecks they couldn’t help but give in to, she laughed, hands buried in his short hair.

“So about that Valentine date,” she murmured, nipping his chin affectionately.

“I think I can make it up to you.” He grinned. “A little late, but…”

“Mmm.” She shook her head. “No, I think you’ve got great timing.”

With her sparkling green eyes lit up like he hadn’t seen in too long, he couldn’t disagree. They were just beginning and there would always be things that got in the way, but he knew they were destined to be and do great things. It was Oliver Queen and Chloe Sullivan from here on out; whatever life had to throw at them, they’d just have to face it together and weather through. She was worth the struggle and as long as he kept his eyes on the future, he could see it was getting brighter with every second.


	110. Amending a Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Chloe's embezzlement is out and explained, she and Oliver have a few things to clear up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #07 – The Skeleton in the Closet  
>  **Spoilers** : 9x14 - Conspiracy  
> 

_Booty call_. The term stuck uncomfortably in her mind; an ache she didn't expect spiraling out of her control. So casual, so meaningful; she knew he said it to hurt her. Some part of her couldn't blame him; her dirty secret was out and anybody looking at it from his view would assume the worst. Lumping her in with the women of his past stung, until she took it for what it was. He had separated her until she'd seemingly proven him wrong. At least in this case, he had allowed her to be innocent until proven guilty. And wasn't it just due justice that Mercer was the one who outed her? With a scowl, she shook her head at the devious mind working an angle over on her. She should've seen this coming.

Standing in the watch tower, she tried to focus her skills on the here and now rather than the earlier events that put her in such a sour mood. Things between her and Oliver were on shaky ground; they'd never named what they were to each other and already they'd had their first miscommunication. Was it her fault? Partly. Then again, she might blame it on her past with men and their lack of reliability. Every time the all too hopeful Chloe Sullivan put her heart in someone's hands or her trust in their instincts, she got herself in deeper trouble than before. One might start to wonder just how deep the pit of trouble went because she had to be reaching the other side soon.

With the comforting beeping and data web spinning all around her, she could almost convince herself she was okay. They'd only been together two weeks; fourteen days of impromptu dalliances where he would arrive and sweep her off her feet. _Booty call_. It all came back with a sharp pang to her chest. Chloe Sullivan had never been and would never be a damn booty call, and he knew it. When they started this thing between them it had been in the name of fun, of seeing what was right in front of them, and she had decided she wouldn't force it but allow it to grow on its own. And like the usual house of cards that made up her great many bad decisions, it came tumbling down on top of her head.

There had been no apologies, not really. She'd explained, even showed him, and he'd taken the information into consideration, even going so far as to move her goods before his ever-so-conniving _Mercy_ could get her grubby little hands on them. Thankful was a possibility, forgiving was unlikely, but guilt was still on the teeter totter of her decision making. Did she feel bad for lying to him? Of course. If she had to do it all over again, would she? A very firm and definite _yes_. Trust was earned and she'd told Oliver before that while she believed in him and would stand at his back, he had a lot to make up for.

And still, it ate at her.

Since coming back into the fold, Oliver had been nothing but worthy of her trust; he had held out his hand and beckoned her to join him in his endless search for justice. Like the hero she'd always been, she took it and she made sure they kept at their hard-earned work. He hadn't let her down, didn't make her feel like she was wrong in dragging him from the gutter, and even in times she second guessed their band of misfit heroes, he kept her spirits up. While she saved him that day so long ago, it seemed he was still trying to pay her back by helping her ever since. And this was how she repaid him. Embezzlement; theft; a mirror of women from his past who saw the dollar sign.

It made her sick inside, as much as she hated to admit it.

For the greater good; a backup plan to save mankind. There was a mile long list of reasons for why she had those weapons built, but only one reason for why she didn't tell him.

Fear.

Fear of trusting him and being wrong; fear of loving him and not being loved back. It all came back to that same end, didn't it? Chloe would always be a woman in need; the one looked over for someone else; the woman whose heart was _expected_ to break and bounce back. She looked at the future Lois had seen; she saw who she became and she didn't want to be her; she didn't want to be that _jaded_ and hurt Chloe. But already, with the sun still yellow, she could see herself fading into her. And the only person keeping her from it was the one person she had already lied to, had already put the relationship in jeopardy of never finding its true beginning.

Her eyes blurred, stung, and she wanted to push it back, but tears clung to her lashes, refusing to abate.

"Somebody break your firewall or should I break out the ice cream?" a voice called from behind her, recognizing the hunch of her shoulders and the shaking of her mouth.

She whirled, surprised to find he had gotten inside without her knowing. All this security and he could get in whenever he pleased. It should've pissed her off but a laugh escaped her, tearful eyes rolling as if it was all she could expect.

"As if _anybody_ could break a Sullivan firewall," she sniffed.

He walked toward her, brown eyes wandering from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, as if he expected to see a reason imprinted on her body for her tears. "Not a blonde hair out of place and no limp in sight…" He looked around the room. "There a murderer hiding in the closet I don't know about?"

She pursed her lips. "Nope. Not even the skeletons are there anymore since they've vacated on early release." Turning her eyes up, she returned to staring at her computers, blinking violently and trying to force the shake of her body to lessen. It was useless.

Silently, he stepped up behind her; warm, large hands enveloping her shoulders and squeezing.

The jaded her wanted to shrug him off, to walk away and ignore the obvious elephant in the room. But the last bit of a heartfelt Chloe leaned into to the touch; the comfort.

His hand slid up her neck, knuckles grazing her skin. How was it a man she knew _so well_ , through his ups and downs, good times and bad, could make her feel like she was weightless, like she was a flawless and worthy person? His thumbs brushed the tears that escaped down her cheeks, rubbing the trails from her skin before cupping her chin and turning her face back toward him. With his head tipped to one side, he stared at her wonderingly. "You wanna share with the class, Professor, or do I have to break out the 20 Questions?"

After everything, after her lies and his hurt, he still looked like he wanted nothing more than to make her feel better. It only made her feel worse. Her façade crumbled and the tears rushed, her shoulders falling. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, shaking her head.

"Hey…" he sighed, gathering her into his arms and tucking her face against his chest. "Cry all you want, this shirt's only Versace."

She laughed, slapping his shoulder gently. "You're a jerk!"

He rubbed her back, his chin resting lightly on her head. "That's not the worst I've been called, so I'll take it." His arms squeezed her waist. "But if we've fallen into name calling and that's the best you've got, this'll be a pretty pathetic chapter in our story."

Sighing, she hitched her hands around his waist, thumbs sliding back and forth along his sides. "Is there still a story?" she finally asked, annoyed with how meek she sounded.

His head slid back and she leaned her own away so she could see his face.

"You think one little embezzlement scandal is gonna rock us off our unusual path, Sidekick?" he wondered, lifting a brow.

Any other time, she might've mocked that arrogant look of his. "I _lied_ to you," she admitted, frowning. "I _stole_ money for you." Sighing, she stepped away from him, needing that space to center herself. Wiping at her face hastily, she shook her head. "Was it for a good cause? In my mind, _yes_. We can't be sure of the future and the one we do know of isn't exactly a Blockbuster of happy endings. But maybe…" She licked her lips, turning her eyes away. "Maybe I should've rethought the way I went about it."

He nodded slowly, pursing his lips in that way that said 'duh, I already knew that.' "Maybe?"

She frowned. "All right, look… Trust isn't a good friend of mine; in fact, we're pretty estranged lately. And when I came up with my dashing back-up plan, I thought I had to do it on my own."

"With my company's money," he added emotionlessly.

She winced. "Unfortunately, by Fortune 500 club card expired."

He tucked his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to continue.

"So I thought maybe I could skim a little off a few of your companies, nothing so massive it would do any damage. I expected when all was said and done, we would have what we need and it wouldn't be a problem…" Her eyes found the floor in an uncharacteristic show of shame.

"We," he repeated.

Brow furrowed, she looked up at him wonderingly.

He stepped toward her slowly. "You said _we_ would have what we needed… But there was no 'we' when you took the money or when you had the weapons built." He shook his head. "All you had to do was ask…" A sad smile split his lips. "I would've given you anything you wanted."

She swallowed tightly, a flow of tears warming her eyes once more. "I know," she admitted.

"Then why?" He reached across, tipped her chin so she would have to look at him. "Why?"

Blinking rapidly, she bit her lip. "Because then I would have to trust you… I'd have to believe you would come through, that you would understand me and what I was doing."

His jaw twitched. "Don't I always?"

Shaking, from her toes to her chin, she knew the truth. " _Yes_."

"So what now?" His hand slid away. "I turn a blind eye when you go on your secret missions of saving the world without me?"

She grit her teeth. This was what he needed, what _she_ needed; either full disclosure or none at all. She knew it was coming and still it rocked her. The moment of truth; the question and answer that would define them.

Did she trust him, trust _them_ , or did she go on in her one-woman army to save the world from a future they both didn't want.

"No." Her brows furrowed in serious decision. "From now on… I tell you everything."

"Everything?" He cocked a meaningful brow.

"Well I think letting you in on bathroom breaks is a little much, but on the big stuff…" She sighed, a smile curving her lips. "You deserve my trust, Oliver, and I'm sorry I didn't know that sooner."

He grinned slowly. "Some of us are slower on the uptake," he teased lightly.

With a snort, she rolled her eyes. "Hey, you're the one who assumed I was only interested in the dollar signs, Queen. So maybe I'm not the _only_ one with trust issues."

His smile turned solemn. "I'll admit…" he mused. "When I first saw the figures, I knew it was you and some part of me expected the worst…" He stared at her. "But I came to you and I asked you straight out rather than jump to conclusions."

Pursing her lips, she stepped toward him and reached, fingers curling around the lapels of his jacket. "If I remember correctly, that meeting of the minds was you telling me you weren't there for a _booty call_ but an answer to Mercer's latest attempt to dig you a grave." She lifted a brow, staring up at him with narrowed eyes. "So the next time you feel like stopping in to see me, I suggest rethinking your approach." She winked, letting him go to walk past him in hopes of finding her kitchen and something to sooth the stomach she just realized was running on empty. Maybe she'd been brooding over a certain billionaire a little too long.

He caught her arm before she could get too far, turned her so they were staring at each other once more.

"My choice of words weren't the best," he admitted, nodding apologetically. "I was…"

"Hurt? Angry? Lacking a certain level of trust in your new—" She stopped suddenly, her word play had run out. There was nothing to end that other than perhaps _lover_. Friends didn't encompass them anymore, teammates was off base, but girlfriend hadn't been labeled either.

His lips curled in a smirk. "My new…?" He waved his hand, mocking her to continue.

Rolling her eyes, she tugged her arm to get free and leave once more. He wasn't so forgiving that he let her this time either.

"Hold on there, Nameless Wonder." Sliding his fingers down her arm, he took her hand. "Is this your less than charming way of asking what we are?"

She sniffed indelicately. "If I wanted to know, I'd be the one helping in that definition." Pursing her lips, she tipped her head. "We haven't defined it and I'm not complaining."

"But it bugs you," he deduced, staring at her thoughtfully. "We're more than friends but less than exclusive."

"Are we?" she murmured.

He blinked, frowning. "I don't know. I haven't been socializing with anyone since we started… Have you?"

A smile bloomed slowly. "And if I had?"

She was rewarded with a flash of indignation before he covered it quickly. "I guess I wouldn't have any right to interfere, would I?"

Free hand falling to her hip with a haughty finesse, she shook her head. "I guess not."

His jaw twitched, eyes turning away. "So these skeletons in your closet don't only include embezzlement but boyfriends, too?"

A light laugh bubbled from her throat. "Careful Ollie, that favorite color of yours doesn't _always_ look good on you."

Licking his lips, he smirked. "Touche."

With a nod, she shrugged. "I have my moments."

Swiping a thumb along her palm, he tugged her hand, drawing her closer to him. "So in this verbal contract we made… I think we left a few details out."

"Mm… Must've been a mix-up in between making sure that bow and arrow of yours was put away properly and you tearing my shirt off…"

He grinned. "I said I'd buy you a new one."

She chuckled lightly. "Besides the point… Now back on topic, Queen, or are you getting distracted?"

Close enough that he could wrap his arm around her waist, he tugged her top free of the confines of her pants and slid his palm along her curved spine, arrogantly pleased when she arched for him, a breathless gasp escaping her lips. "Article one, an amendment… This is exclusive. No other guys; hero or not." Leaning down, his lips were so close she could feel his breath skittering across her own. But as much as she wanted for that kiss that would leave her toes curling and her insides twisting, he bypassed her mouth, lips grazing her cheek before hovering at her ear. "You're all mine," he murmured, his arm tightening at her waist in a show of possessive heat.

"Two way street," she murmured, her hands sliding up his back, fingers splaying along hard shoulder blades that flexed with masculine strength.

He chuckled, drawling lowly, "As if anybody else could compare when I have you."

Her eyes fluttered, her heart lurching in her chest, hope blooming all too quickly.

"Amendment two?" she breathed.

"Like you said before; no more secrets… of any kind." His hand slid up her front, unbuttoning with deliberately slow ease. "We're all in, under every circumstance."

She nodded shakily, chewing her lip as his fingers spread out, hand pausing as the crests of her breasts.

"And lastly…" He dragged her shirt free, hands swamping her shoulders and tugging her back so they were eye to eye. "This… _Us_ … We're the beginning…" He stared searchingly into her eyes; a full, warm grin forming as he realized she knew, she understood, and she accepted it.

The beginning of trust, of the future, of a love neither of them had truly known or experienced before.

She swallowed; her reservations, fears, that last bit of jaded callousness that would no doubt keep her from it, from _him_.

Hands gliding up her neck, his fingers buried in her hair, tipped her head back and held her steady as he brought his mouth close enough that she could already feel her toes curling, her stomach warming, her thighs clenching. Her fingers found his biceps, gripped, held on for balance, for strength and courage.

"Is our contract to your satisfaction, Miss Sullivan?" he wondered, lips brushing hers with each word.

"One last thing," she added. "Call me a booty call again and you lose your bedroom privileges…" She smirked. "Hope your couch is comfortable."

He chuckled deeply. "I don't plan to find out."

And with a kiss, their deal was sealed.

Lips meshing, tongues tangling, teeth scoring and marking each other as their own, clothes flew and hearts hammered. Naked chests met as they struggled to get out of the ring of computers and to somewhere more comfortable. Warm skin and entwined limbs, they fell to the bed with breathless laughter escaping between hasty and passionate kisses. The worry and sadness of before was all but gone as the lighthearted companionship she always felt in his arms came to full bloom once more. It was when the computers were down and the mess behind them that they were just Chloe and Oliver; two people who saw each other, knew and cared deeply for each other, despite everything.

With the trust between them on a level playing field and promising to be one they would share in honestly, there was only one skeleton left to deal with and it wasn't one Oliver had to worry about. As long as _they_ understood each other and what they meant to one another, the only skeleton in the closet was that of _them_ as others saw them. With Oliver hovering above a willing and happy Chloe, content to explore each other and their future together as it came, they would keep their newly amended verbal contract to themselves and leave the others guessing.


	111. Shattered Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's out to enlighten a carefully distant Chloe that they weren't going to fight it anymore.

He was staring at her again; this wasn't a new occurrence, in fact she'd gotten quite used to it over time. Oliver Queen was the type of man who needed to know everything, which in turn meant he liked to take apart, piece by piece, every person, thing, or subject he came in contact with. Chloe Sullivan was an enigma, and she liked it that way. Opening up to him meant trusting him and trusting him would lead to disastrous results. It was nothing against Oliver, but she had a history of putting her trust in the wrong people and he just so happened to be tossed in with the rest. Besides, this was neither the place nor time do be having one of those insightful conversations where he tried to pick her brain and she dodged his every attempt.

Forcibly, she kept her eyes on the speaker ahead of them. Standing atop a podium, the main attraction was an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair perfectly styled and a dashing smile that would make just about any woman forget his lesser qualities in favor of the charm that radiated from his every pore. A spokesperson by trade, Alan Gredwall had made a career of talking anybody into anything he needed or wanted and, at least for tonight, those generous abilities were for a charity response. While the rich and snobbish broke out their checkbooks, Chloe kept to the sidelines, enjoying the show. And still she couldn't help but feel his brown eyes lingering on her from just a few inches to her left.

Standing near the bar, with a fake window at their backs that was made to light up in various colors, giving a certain passionate feel to the area, each inhale of steadying breath was filled with the lingering scent of red roses that filled the modern glass vase behind them. Not for the first time, she felt dressed down and out of place in her casual clothes, surrounded by people who dropped a grand or three on an evening gown used only one night. The fact that Oliver wore only a pinstriped grey dress shirt and a pair of black slacks didn't calm her any; the man could make a potato sack look like Versace.

Uncomfortable still with his staring, her hand lifted to her gold necklace, fiddling with the end, wrapping it around her fingers and then tugging it back into place. If she would let herself look at him, she knew she'd find that smirk of his curving his lips; the one that said he knew she knew he was watching her. If he couldn't figure her out, he could at least unnerve her. Lesser men had tried and failed and she supposed that was part of the thrill.

Clapping interrupted her thoughts; Gredwall was done talking them out of their money and they were all hurrying to be the highest bidder. Whatever they put out, it wouldn't be near enough to what Oliver would provide. The man known for his playboy attitude and drunken public displays was still a charitable heart and in the end, he would pay for most of the proceeds and the event itself. Much as she disliked his attention, she couldn't dislike the man. He was more of a hero than anybody in this room would know and she was one of the lucky few who knew it; perhaps more so than even those that surrounded him in his heroic duties.

Still full champagne glass in hand, he covered the last few inches between them and turned his body in her direction, resting an elbow on the bar and turning his head down so they were eye to eye.

With a sigh, she pursed her lips, effecting a disgruntled expression. "What happened to staying distant and keeping an eye on the crowd?" she wondered, a little bite to her words.

"Maybe I exaggerated the possibility of trouble tonight," he admitted with a grin.

Scowling, she cocked a brow. "Tell me you didn't drag me out to this gathering of snobs trying to outdo each other because your little black book ran out of women willing to put up with you…"

Licking his lips, his eyes fell in amusement before catching hers once more, intensely daring her to look away. "I doubt my book would ever run dry, Sidekick… But I did drag you out for no real work purpose." Cocking a brow, he looked around pointedly. "You really think I'd leave the rest of the guys behind if I thought something big was going to hit?"

Her mistake, she supposed, for trusting his instincts in a situation he knew better than her. Sighing, she reached for the purse lying useless on the stool next to her. "Then I'm calling it a night, _Boss_." With a sarcastic salute, she meant to leave. "Do me a favor and _don't_ fill me on the rest of this boring night."

Before she could move, he reached out, stilled her with a firm hand on her shoulder. "Before you run away, hear me out."

Eyes narrowing darkly, she frowned. "I don't _run away_ , Queen. You should know that better than anyone."

His lips twitched. "I do… Which is why I know that accusing you of that early means you won't dare leave in case you look like a coward."

He had her there.

Dropping her purse to the stool once more, she stared up at him impatiently. "So what is this? What big news do you have to share that needed a room full of wealthy strangers I'd rather never meet again?"

He stared again, didn't say a word. Breathing, in and out, slow and easy, with the kind of deliberate relaxation that only served to put her more on edge. Raising the flute, he drank half of his champagne and then dropped it back to his side. Licking his lips, drawing her eyes to that firm mouth of his, he flashed white teeth with an edge of animalistic hunger that only made her stomach tighten and her throat run dry. Suddenly, she felt like prey rather than partner-in-crime and knew she should've taken the chance to run when it was in front of her.

He moved, arms caging her in, hand on either side of the bar as he hovered so close, so tall above her that she felt like a small, sheltered being, his warmth seeping into her skin and leaving her breathless. Staring up at him from beneath long, dark lashes she hoped she portrayed the fearless woman she usually was and not the curious and wary person now assaulting her courage.

His head lowered, so close she swore she could feel his breath on her lips, his forehead against hers, his nose brushing her own. A shaky breath escaped her parted mouth and from the way his eyes flashes, she was sure hot air skittered across his lips from hers.

"For a woman who doesn't run, you have a habit of hiding," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that had goosebumps fanning along her flesh.

Her lips curled in a sneer. "And what am I hiding from, Oliver?"

He grinned, reached up with one of his large, long-fingered hands and tucked a wavy chunk of blonde hair behind her ears. "Me… Us…" He stared down at her with such _knowing_ that she felt like all of her secrets had spilled out and laid bare before his eyes. "The you I know so well…"

She swallowed tightly, a well of emotion, fear, and desire falling thickly to her trembling stomach.

"You _think_ you know me…"

"I _know_ I do," he argued, a flash of anger in his voice. "You wish I didn't and you can try and tell me different but we both know that I know you… Better than anyone."

Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding.

And what did he know? Really? Her past, her present… Dealings that not even Clark would understand; her mistakes and her less-than-innocent actions. Her fears, her hopes, the dreams she thought she'd forgotten. Had she shared so much in the time they'd known each other? He had a way of getting those things out of her; a shot of whiskey here, a quiet moment where he waited for her to elaborate there… And with the freedom of a woman who thought there was nothing he didn't already know, she told him her deepest and darkest of secrets and passions. In the hollow shadows of her watch tower, she'd shared with him what nobody else had wanted to hear. How she ached, how she cried only when the tears would wait no longer. How she didn't miss Jimmy as much or as deeply as she thought she would. How sometimes, as callous as it sounded, she almost felt freer now that he and Davis were gone. And he'd brushed those tears from her cheeks, held her when she cried, and soothed the ache away with a welcomed ear.

It was in the glaring light of day that she returned to the woman she had to be; the one with all the walls and blocks, the carefully built shields that kept others at bay. Seeming emotionless, careless even, she did her job and kept the others at arms length. Until the sun fell and night came calling, bringing with it an Oliver who wore no leathers and no business suit, just a friendly smile that would forever be her downfall. It was night now, but the room was so bright she could try and fool herself; they were not alone and she would not fall prey to his encouraging eyes and thick silence.

"Your fan club is getting jealous, Oliver, better not waste your time on an unwilling participant," she muttered scathingly, grasping for any sense of stability.

He didn't look, didn't bother to see what women had come to stare and earn his attention through fake lashes batted in his direction and overstuffed cleavage out at the forefront. Instead he slid his arms in close, biceps flexing beneath that casual dress shirt of his, brushing against her arms with purpose. "Still so sure you know _me_ , Chloe?" he asked, close enough that he could whisper and it would sound like a shout. "And how many of these fans of mine have I been spending my much-desired time with these last few months, hm?"

She trembled, refused to admit that any off-time he had was spent with her. Too intimate, too _true_. "How would I know? I monitor your movements for safety, Oliver, not to keep you STD free."

He grinned, but the dark edge only served to make her shudder. How a man so angry with her could make her thighs shiver with awareness, she didn't know. Jimmy was always patient, always kind and goofy; he never made her feel like anything but a pretty woman with a good guy. And Davis was all intense darkness; sadness, despair and fear shrouded what might've been a handsome and good man. But Oliver was neither and yet both of those; he was intense when it warranted it and easily charming when he needed to be. All the same, there were times when his defenses fell so much that she felt like she was looking at a man only _he_ had really known.

This was the intense Oliver; a purpose to his words and movements that left her wondering. And behind those warm eyes was an emotion she'd seen often and had yet to give a name to. She'd witnessed it often; during nights they spent laughing, talking, wrapped in the past, the present, the future that once looked so bleak. She talked, he listened, he talked, she listened, and in the end, they both heard, both understood. A flash in his eyes; of tenderness, perhaps. Or something deeper, something never truly explored.

And she was adamant it stay that way.

"I always get what I want, Chloe…"

She ground her teeth, staring up at him and hitting him where she knew it would hurt, "Except Lois… Right?"

She expected a wince, a flinch, but received nothing.

"I wanted her… Had her for a time… And kept after what we had rather than see what was so clearly in front of me…" His brows rose with self-understanding. "If I'd loved her as much as I convinced myself I did, things would've turned out differently."

She frowned. "A little confident, don't you think? She's living the good life with her favorite farm boy currently."

"And she wouldn't have gotten there if I hadn't let go before we got where we were headed…" He shook his head. "For the better."

Brows furrowed, she pursed her lips. "You loved her."

He nodded.

"You _still_ love her."

He shook his head.

She huffed, disbelieving. "Oliver, it was just a little while ago that you were chasing after her like a puppy looking for its owner."

He scowled. "My memory's in good working order, Sidekick. And it was six months ago, not yesterday."

Rolling her eyes, she scoffed. "So six months erases whatever love you did have?"

"No," he agreed. "But it does provide insight."

Licking her lips, she refused to look interested. "And what earth-moving insights have you stumbled upon?"

"I loved Lois… Past-tense." He shook his head, lifting a shoulder. "If nothing else, she reminded me that there were great things, great _people_ , out there that I was missing out on…" He grinned. "And she did a pretty good job of knocking some sense into me."

Chloe couldn't hide a smile. "One of her many talents."

He nodded. "Which is why realizing what I feel now wasn't as dumbfounding as it might've been…"

Stiffening up, she faced him with wary wonder. "And what is it you _feel_?"

"For such a smart woman, you really are entirely too oblivious," he mused, chuckling.

Lip curling, she cocked a brow. "Care to repeat that when I'm holding my .45?"

He grinned. "Not really a masochist, but we'll see how you're feeling later."

"I don't plan on being around _later_ , so maybe we'll reschedule the rest of this enlightening conversation for a time when I'm armed and not in a room full of witnesses," she snarked.

"Your plans have been put on hold, Sidekick. For now, you'll have to pay attention to mine and see where it leads."

Shaking her head, she sighed. "And where's that?"

"With any luck, tonight my apartment and in the near future, a wedding chapel…" He shrugged. "It'll take convincing, but I've got a few tactics up my sleeve that'll leave you momentarily stunned and more agreeable."

She snorted. "Getting ahead of yourself, don't you think?"

He shook his head, firmly. "No… In fact, I think I'm catching us up on something that's been staring us in the face and going ignored entirely too long."

"Is that right?" she drawled.

"Fight me all you want," he murmured before lifting a hand and cupping her delicate neck in his wide palm. Thumb stroking up and down and finally along the line of her jaw, he tipped her head back slowly. "I'll convince you yet." With that, his lips embraced hers, firm and warm. Erasing the little space between them, his body pressed against her own; all hard plains and flexing muscles that made her stomach jolt and her thighs quiver. Teeth nipped her lower lip, an escaped gasp parting her mouth for him to delve inside. Tongues dueling for dominance and lips bruising as they slanted and met possessively, he buried his fingers in her hair and held tight.

She should have pushed him away; every carefully built wall she'd built told her that letting this happen, letting him in, meant that eventually she would trust him with everything, and eventually she would love him beyond reason. Which, inevitably, would lead to that chapel he'd spoken of and if her second marriage was anything like her first, it wouldn't go well. But his breathless kisses that left her mouth and thickly trailed across her cheek, down her neck, and buried in her hair told her that he was _not_ Jimmy Olson. He was, perhaps, the farthest thing from goofy Jimmy.

Oliver Queen was an intense man, hero, and no doubt lover. Much as she had tried to ignore the possibility, the guarantee that he offered, she knew the truth. There were two choices here; keep holding him at bay, keep pushing him away, and live the carefully distant life she'd cut out for herself. Or give up, give _in_ , and take hold of the passionate man currently awakening every fiber of _woman_ that she'd stuffed in a box labeled 'hibernating' and let herself _free_. Hands currently gripping the bar behind her, white knuckles a sign of her fears, grew loose and she finally let go to reach for him. Arms sliding around his waist, hands creeping up his back, fingers dug in to him and held on tight.

Seconds, minutes, maybe even _hours_ later when he broke away from her, he was panting, she was desperately dragging in air, and her knees were unsteady. He would catch her, she thought half-drowned in him already. His nose nuzzled hers, affectionate, and that spark of tenderness – of _love_ – flashed clear in dark brown eyes. "You done fighting yet?"

She grinned. "I'm a fighter by nature, Ollie… You'll have to do better than one little kiss."

His smile spread slowly, suggestively, _promising_ that the night would only lead to more convincing and even if she was already there, she was more than ready to delve into the delights he offered.

Protective walls lay shattered at her feet, forgotten. The charity was soon a memory as he dragged her from the room by her hand, fingers woven together, waving for his car. In minutes they were headed to Queen Tower, to more of those drugging kisses and wandering hands, to heated bodies meeting and melding in sheets of green. By morning, when the sun crept in asking for discretion and distance, she would ignore it. Instead of putting on the mask, of hiding behind those blocks she'd carefully built, she would crawl deeper into his arms, face buried in his hard chest, and she would trust that loving him was the right thing to do.

For once, during her long list of relationship mistakes, she would be _right_.


	112. Eyes Wide Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was a patient man, but not a stupid one.

This was one of those moments where for the first time in her life, it wasn't _her_ who had to live with the broken heart, but instead she was the one who caused it. Chloe Sullivan had always come in second; she was overlooked, underappreciated, and often she was the friend instead of the lover. But for a moment in time, he had made her feel different. He'd picked her up and put her at the forefront; unused to it, she hadn't even realized it was happening. Chloe had loved, had been loved, but those instances, those fragments of memories compared little to what he'd given her, what they'd shared.

At some point, she'd accepted her life as it was and stopped trying to see anymore than what the surface appeared to be. She ran communications for a group of superheroes that were really just beginning, still finding their masked footing in a world they'd never known could exist until they took the step to make it so. Having had her fair share of dreams and expectations for her life and never knowing what she was meant to be until Oliver Queen handed her an ear piece and the schematics to a 33.1 warehouse, Chloe hadn't grown up believing she'd be the wizard behind the curtain until one day she was. And now, nearing her thirtieth birthday, she realized that all those weird times in her life, the moments that nobody would believe would or _could_ happen unless they lived her life, had made her blind to the most basic and normal of things.

She was twenty-four when they started their _thing_ ; back then they called it friends-with-benefits and over time they'd never stopped to change the title. Looking back now she knew that their poor attempt at having anything emotionless and more physically-centered had probably only lasted a few weeks, at best. She wasn't the type of woman who didn't grow attached, didn't dig and dig until she knew the whole of the person she was sharing herself with. And really, he was just the same. Maybe if she'd been somebody else; a nameless debutante or celebrity-seeker, he might've simply enjoyed it for what it was. But sex became making love and flirting became real conversations. He was who she turned to, who she shared her secrets, doubts, and even the fears she rarely admitted to herself.

Nearly six years and she hadn't realized their non-relationship was the exact opposite. She had always maintained that they lived separately but the truth was that the Watch Tower had a cot she hadn't used in ages, her own bed disposed of in favor of a few double beds for when the guys were just too tired to leave the comm. base. She'd been living with Oliver, sharing his bed, his closet and dresser, his entire living space for a little over five years and she'd been lying to herself the whole time.  
  
When he introduced her as his girlfriend, she'd shrugged it off; it was less complicated than explaining they were 'just lovers.' And it wasn't like anybody would have believed them anyway; not after six years of tabloid fodder, joining him at the many public banquets and galas, and standing at his side almost 24/7. Sidekick, she'd assured herself; it made sense that they spent so much time together. What did it matter if they shared motel rooms, every breakfast, lunch and dinner, or that her voice was on his answering machine message? They worked and played together, hard and often, and maybe her heart had been broken one too many times and her defenses had rendered her completely and utterly oblivious!

It was spring, 2016, and yesterday Oliver Queen asked her quite simply, "If I ask you to marry me are you going to admit you've been mine all along?"

And she'd stuttered, all the air leaving her in a heavy rush that made her choke. "W-What?"

He half-smiled but there was something sad in his face, something that made her chest ache. Reaching over, he tucked her long blonde hair behind her ear. "I accepted it was going to take you some time to come around, but I think after six years you're either on the same page or reading a different book…" Lips firming, he shook his head. "I love you… You know that, you've _known_ that all along…" He stared searchingly at her and then swallowed tightly. "I picked out your ring three years ago but I knew you weren't ready… I'm patient, but I'm not stupid."

Brows furrowing, she shook her head. "Oliver…"

He sighed shakily. "Look… I'm willing to spend the rest of our lives together. I just wish you'd realize it already began."

With that, he left her to think. He walked out of their house, their _home_ , and he didn't return even hours later as night fell.

She sat on the couch, her laptop discarded to the side, her knees drawn up under her chin, and her brows furrowed in concentration. When in the hell did the most attentive person in the world stop seeing what was right in front of her? It took time; it took tears and a run through of every emotion in the book as she realized what had happened, what she'd _missed_. The memories hit her like a brick; mornings where she woke up and saw him smiling at her, his hair ruffled from sleep and a mug of her favorite coffee steaming in his hand, waiting for her. Nights where sex was the farthest thing from her mind; where she was physically tired or mentally exhausted and he would lighten the mood, doing everything he could just to make her feel better. Dinner's he made for them, getting her to test his latest concoction as she sat on the countertop, feet swinging back and forth. And she'd laugh when it was horribly bad but eat it for his sake or pull out the take-out menus when it simply wasn't salvageable. Weekends spent lounging on his couch in pajamas or long walks through the city, hand-in-hand while they talked about everything from the headlines in the morning paper to the latest in world-ending enemies. Vacations, birthdays, holidays; they'd spent them together, always involved in each other's lives so much that it hadn't even occurred to her that friends-with-benefits didn't do that, didn't share that much.

It was morning, the rain was coming down in a torrent, and she could see him down the driveway, hands stuffed in his black hoodie as he walked with his head bowed. Was he so sure she would say no? Had she really hurt him _that_ much? In six years, whether she acknowledged it then or not, there had never been anyone else for her but him. He was who she danced with at benefits she went to only to support him. He was who she laughed with, who she held when she slept, who she looked forward to seeing before she fell asleep and every morning she woke up. Six years of the strongest relationship she'd ever had and even when she thought they were only lovers, there was nobody else she trusted more.

There was nobody else at all.

Not for her.

Standing from the couch, her tears drying on her cheeks, she ran for the front door, throwing it open and hurrying down the stairs. He was midway, eyes lifting to find hers, confused, uncertain, even _scared_. She launched herself at him, felt as his arms wrapped around her, caught her easily, and they were turned around, her on the step down from him, looking up in that face she knew so well; every plain, every scar, every inch of masculine perfection. Arms around his shoulders, her hands cupped his neck and the side of his face, thumb stroking down his hair to trace along his ear. Noses brushing, she stared at him, at the way his eyes wouldn't meet hers now.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, eyes burning with a flood of new tears. "I was stupid and blind and you were right… You were so right…" She swallowed tightly, forced the emotion back so she could get out the words now clogging her throat. "It began so long ago; _we_ started even before we got together…" Her brows knotted in pained honesty. "And I was scared; I was so scared to love you. But I did, I _do_ , I just didn't want to admit it, I didn't want to realize you might not feel the same."

He frowned, brows furrowed. "How could you possibly think I—"

She rolled her eyes. "I think we've already established I was doing very _little_ thinking," she interrupted with a hint of mirth. "The point is that I know _now_. I'm not hiding and I'm not pretending. Eyes wide open, Ollie…"

His lips softened slowly, curling at the corners. "You realize this means I'm going to marry you, right?"

With a laugh, she grinned in relief. "After six years, you _better!_ "

Chuckling, he hugged her tight, burying his face in her hair. "Smartest dumb person I ever knew, Professor."

Sighing, she smiled. "Watch it, Queen… The last thing you want is a bitter, naggy wife on your hands."

Lifting her up until her legs wrapped around his waist, he held her up so they were face to face, the sadness now replaced with the warmth and love she was used to seeing. "Wife… I like the sound of that."

"It was a long time coming," she murmured, leaning forward until their lips were a mere breath apart.

Rain dribbling down his face, he grinned. "And now you've seen the light."

"Mm…" she agreed. "Now kiss your fiancée, Oliver. She's missed you a lot more than even _she_ knew…"

With a laugh, he did just that, and Chloe Sullivan never closed her eyes to him, to _them_ , ever again.


	113. Off The Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A picture's worth a thousand words.

> **Off The Market!**
> 
> **By** : Lorelei Montgomery
> 
>      That's right ladies, read it and weep. It appears Oliver Queen, best known for his good looks and endless charm, has been taken off the market! Pictured above with long-time friend Chloe Sullivan, former reporter for The Daily Planet of Metropolis, and coincidentally enough, the cousin to Queen's ex- Lois Lane.
> 
>      Taken just yesterday while the newly outed couple were taking a walk down 56th and Broad, a mere three blocks from Queen Industries, where Oliver Queen works as CEO to his late father's family company, the two were spotted by a source flirtatiously bantering back and forth before Oliver jokingly offered to give Sullivan a piggy-back ride the rest of the walk. Taking him up on the offer, Sullivan hopped onto the broad and reliable back of Star City's most desired bachelor.
> 
>      Dressed down in casuals rather than in his usual high price-tag clothing, it was obvious to on-lookers that this coupling was not for the gossip mongers but a true-blue relationship that had bloomed behind the scenes. Sporting large smiles and happily enjoying their afternoon together, Queen and Sullivan were later seen having lunch at Alessandro's, the new hot Italian restaurant and later pictured at the Star City General Hospital Benefit, raising funds for a new cancer ward.
> 
>      While other columnists have taken an instant dislike to Miss. Sullivan, inciting gossip that she's only in it for the money, this reporter says different. If a picture says a thousand words, this one strikes me as a one-word headliner, folks.
> 
> **Committed**.
> 
>      That's right, I said it! I believe wholeheartedly that this bachelor is not just off the market but fully committed to making this relationship work and last. Often known for his philandering ways and never sticking to one beautiful woman at a time, I'll take the high road on this news and choose to believe that Oliver Queen might have just met his match. It may just be my rooting for a fellow (former or not) reporter, but I give these two a thumbs up and hope for the best!
> 
>      So good luck, Chloe and Oliver, and make this columnist proud!
> 
>      I'm Lorelei Montgomery, coming to you from _That's Right, She Went There!_ And this had been a **Celebrity Couple's Report** for all you naysayers out there. Eat your words and bask in the love, my friends, these two are gonna make it!

  
Chloe grinned to herself, shaking her head as she folded the newspaper in half and took her steaming cup of coffee from the vendor. No doubt Oliver would get a kick out of the latest in gossip about their relationship. Mostly she'd been running into the less-than-uplifting angles to her and Oliver's finally 'coming out.' It seemed gossip magazines didn't care for who she was or what she represented; all they saw was a pretty face and her gold-digging claws dug in deep. Walking down the street and taking an absent left while she pulled her cell phone from her purse, she texted her accomplice in question.

_You still sleeping?_

Having left his apartment an hour earlier, needing to stop at the Watch Tower for a few things and spotting the newspaper stand and it's latest headline, she'd left Oliver to sleep in and went about her business. After a year together, she had found it wasn't often she woke up before him, but he'd had a long night of canoodling with the public and undergoing their obvious scrutiny towards his latest girlfriend. To them, he and Chloe were new; to her they'd been together a little over a year and doing just fine. It was he who wanted them to just get it over with and come out, mostly because he was tired of pretending to be friends outside of their apartment. Giving in to his stubborn tactics, she agreed and now she found it endlessly funny that it had backfired on him.

The buzz of her phone told her he had replied and she lifted it once more, using her thumb to open the text message waiting.

_No. And waking up without you is not pleasant. Morning sex is much better when two people are involved!_

She laughed at his candid response and rolled her eyes, texting back as she sipped her coffee deeply.

_I'm sure you managed. ;) I'm just around the corner. I'll be there soon. I found something I think you'll like._

Finishing off her coffee, she licked her lips and dropped the empty cup in a recycling bin before walking inside the Queen Tower's front building.

"Hey Archie," she greeted, smiling at the doorman.

"Hey Chloe," he said back, grinning. "I'm surprised you came through the front door after yesterday's mob of reporters."

She shrugged. "You'd be surprised what Oliver's PR people can do to keep them at bay."

Chuckling, he lifted a brow. "There were a few hiding in the bushes this morning but I got rid of them. I was told if they stay on the other side of the street they aren't disturbing anyone."

Pushing the button for the elevator, she laughed. "So long as the flash of their cameras doesn't blind you anyway… Hopefully this mess will be cleared up soon."

He nodded agreeably. "Have a good day!" he called after her.

"You too," she replied, pressing the button to the top floor.

Leaning against the wall in wait, she smiled to herself as her phone buzzed again.

_Does it involve you, a bed, and a very interested me?_

Snorting, she shook her head. "Mind meet gutter," she muttered to herself.

As the elevator doors opened, she stepped inside and crossed the apartment to see if he'd ventured from his room yet. Finding the living room and kitchen empty, she kicked her shoes off and walked to the half-open bedroom door. Lounging in bed, his arms tucked behind his head, eyes closed, and his phone lying on his chest in wait of her reply, she grinned at the sight.

"Lemme guess, your phone's on vibrate," she said in greeting.

His mouth curled at the sides and one eye opened. "I see you're still dressed," he noted with an exaggerated frown.

Rolling her eyes, she dropped her purse to the floor and walked toward their bed, shedding her jacket in the process. "Turn off the downstairs brain for a second, Romeo; I want you to read the latest prognosis on our relationship."

His playful expression darkened. "Not another 'She's after his money and he's distracted by the sex,' one, is it?" Rolling onto his side, he patted the spot next to him for her to sit. "Because if anybody should be thoroughly distracted by sex, it should be you!"

Chuckling, she handed him the paper. "Just read it!"

With a dramatic sigh, he opened the paper to read through the small write-up and slowly began to smile. "Huh… So we've got at least one fan out there rooting for us… Good to know."

Easing down to lay next to him, she nodded. "Apparently, you've met your match, Queen."

Grinning, he leaned across to her. "Couldn't agree more, Sidekick," he agreed, capturing her lips in a good-morning kiss.

"Mmm," she sighed, her hand cupping his cheek to keep him from drawing away.

Fingers curling around her knee, he dragged her close and hitched her leg over his hip. "One down, the rest to go," he murmured in between kisses. "We'll prove them wrong after lunch."

Laughing breathily, she opened her eyes to stare at him. "And what's wrong with right now?"

He smirked devilishly. "We're otherwise occupied… Proving our one fan very, _very_ right."

Chuckling, she gave in. It wouldn't do to argue with their only supporter, now would it?


	114. I Told You So!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was time all those non-believers realized the truth.

> **I Told You So!**
> 
> **By** : Lorelei Montgomery
> 
> _It seems not long ago I was quashing the immediate dislike of Chloe Sullivan because of her relationship with Oliver Queen, and look at where we are now! Yesterday afternoon, at a quarter after 3, it was official – Oliver Queen married long-time girlfriend Chloe in a private ceremony including only very close friends and family._
> 
> _Wearing a stunning strapless white gown that was sure to put any doubters to rest over pregnancy rumors, Chloe made a beautiful bride as she met Oliver to exchange personally written vows. A brief but emotional ceremony commenced, in which a source was quoted at saying, "[Oliver] couldn't stop smiling… He looked at her like she hung the stars. And [Chloe] was just the same; I think she might've even cried a little!"_
> 
> _Walking along the beach outside their vacation home and just down from the small church they'd married in, the two were captured by paparazzi as they strolled only a few feet from the reaching tide. Barefoot in the sand, holding her heels in one hand and her dress in the other, the bride sent a less-than-enthusiastic look to the cameraman as he captured their private moment. However, unreleased photographs have the couple sharing a long, intimate kiss and even running through the water, drenching the lower half of her dress before Oliver laughingly tossed his new bride over his shoulder._
> 
> _Just three years ago, I was quoted as the first columnist to stand in support of this coupling and I reassert that belief today. While I'm sure there will be an influx of scandal and dislike for them still, I shake my head at the lack of belief in love these days. If these two aren't as passionate and in love as I see them, then I've been blind all these years._
> 
> _I don't need a picture to tell me what these two are and I'll give you one word, just as I did then._
> 
> _**Forever.** _
> 
> _Congratulations, Oliver and Chloe Queen, I see only the best for you in your future together._
> 
> _I'm Lorelei Montgomery, coming to you from That's Right, She Went There! And this has been a **Celebrity Couple's Report** for all you loveless hypocrites out there. While you're eating your words, I've only one thing to say, my friends…_
> 
> _I told you so!_

Chloe laughed as she reread the column left on her bedside table by none other than her husband of three days. How he got a newspaper from Star City all the way out to their honeymoon suite half-way across the world, the very same day it was published, she didn't know. He was a man with far-reaching hands and she could only feel blissful appreciation as she realized how thoughtful he was to get her this particular writer's input.

With the ocean breeze making the white curtains dance in the windows and reaching to cool her naked skin, she hugged the sheet around her chest and bit her lip as she smiled in content. _Chloe Anne Queen_ ; some ridiculously girly part of her wanted to actually scream or even gush! It wasn't as if she was surprised, not really. After four years together, she and Oliver had only grown closer and relied on each other wholly. There wasn't that breathless moment in the dressing room when the wedding song started and she wondered if she was making a very huge mistake in marrying him because she knew that this was simply where she was meant to be, where they were always headed.

Footsteps approaching the door had her smile widening and her heart speeding up in anticipation. As the bedroom door swung open, Oliver stepped inside with a matching grin and holding a mug of coffee made especially for her. Wearing only his pajama pants hung low on his lean hips, his broad tanned chest was a very nice sight to wake up to. Crossing the room, he handed her coffer over while reaching for the newspaper and lying down beside her. As the bed jarred, she lifted the mug higher in hopes it wouldn't spill, and rolled her eyes as he ignored the obvious and instead read through the same article she'd already read a few dozen times.

"I like this woman… She's very insightful," he observed with a smirk.

Chuckling, she took a sip from her coffee and then placed it on the bedside table. "Why? Because she agrees with us?"

He lifted a shoulder. "Hey, if she's right, she's right."

Rolling her eyes, she eased down the bed. Hooking an arm around his, she rested her head on his shoulder and read the paper in his hands. "She's still one in few… I'm not one of gossip's most beloved celebrity wives."

Turning his head, he caught her eyes. "Does that bother you?" he asked, and for a moment the humor was replaced with concern.

She smiled warmly, reaching up to cup his face, feeling the shadow of morning whiskers against her palm. "Not even a little… They can rant and rave all they want. I know the truth."

Letting the paper fall to the wayside, he turned into her, his arm sliding around her waist and his body pressing into her until she was sprawled beneath him, naked atop the lily white sheets. "And just what is the truth, Mrs. Queen?" he murmured, his nose nuzzling hers as his lips hovered temptingly close.

Feathering her fingers through his hair, she dragged her hands down until they were wrapped around the back of his neck. "Just as Montgomery said… One word… _Forever_."

His smile softened and with a tug of her hands at his neck, he gave in and kissed her. Mouths slanting and breathless kisses giving way as their bodies rubbed sensually together, he stripped the sheet from between them and reached down to loosen his pajamas pants. They had a honeymoon to enjoy, and while the ocean called for them to come out and bask in the sun, Oliver wanted to spend it with his wife a little longer.

 _Wife_. Even now, with her hands running down his back and her legs wrapping around his waist, he had to smile as his chest tightened with happiness. They may not have the world on their side, but the few supporters they did have were strong and, well, _right_. Burying his fingers in her soft, blonde hair, Oliver Queen was more than content to spend the rest of his life right here, with her, loving every blissful moment of it. And all those disbelievers would just have to eat their words.


	115. Dearly Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the beginning, she thought she was walking in with her eyes wide-open, but as she stepped out from beneath the wedding arbor, she knew she'd had it all wrong from the word Go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Challenge** : Defying Mythos – Battle for the Best: Challenge #2  
>  **OneShot Challenge** : #2 – Wedding  
> 

Chloe stared out the window at the many people milling in the backyard; dressed in their best and waiting for the ceremony to begin. There were security guards speaking into their cufflinks, friends and family chatting over the backs of their chairs, Bart eyeing the buffet table, and a frazzled wedding designer running around looking like a chicken with her head cut off. She smiled. All this for something so… _simple_.

She heard a knock at her door; once, pause, double-knock, and a tap. She grinned, lifting her dress so it didn't drag when she hurried across the room.

"It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding," she said through the door teasingly.

He laughed lowly. "After I used the secret knock and everything, you've gotta gimme something…"

With a roll of her eyes, she drew the door open and stuck her leg out, wiggling it just for him.

He chuckled. "Set for life now, Professor."

Snorting, she peeked her head around to see him. "If Lois sees you, you're _dead_ ," she warned, even as she smiled.

He shrugged, not the least bit worried. "Maybe she'll give me a reprieve… I _am_ getting married today," he reminded, wiggling his brows.

Chloe wrinkled her nose. "I know my cousin… She's not big on mercy."

He grinned. "All right, all right, I can take a hint." Lifting his hands, he backed up in surrender. "I guess I'll see you out there." He turned to walk away, tossing over his shoulder. "Nice leg by the way, Sullivan."

She stuck her tongue out at him, laughing.

Closing the door, she leaned back against it, lifting a hand to her cheek when her face physically _hurt_ from smiling so much. Today, she was getting married. She was going to walk down the aisle for a second time, to a different man. A _very_ different man, in fact.

She shook her head thoughtfully.

Years ago, she'd been sure that she and Jimmy would last a lifetime; that they had it in them to go the whole way. Or maybe she just convinced herself they would; hoping she could get that one little bit of normalcy, of forever. Now she knew better; now she knew that the love she'd always longed for took more than just hope. It took trust and forgiveness, understanding and strength. Her groom today knew her better than anybody; better than she knew herself. The heroics were out in the open, the fears, the dreams, the desires; they held nothing back. And maybe they didn't always see eye to eye, but they could discuss it, they could have their own views and opinions and understand each other.

And she loved him; more than anything, more than all her other reasons, she loved him.

The door was suddenly shoved at her back and she stumbled forward, turning around to see Lois coming inside, frowning. "Why were you standing in front of the door?"

"What? Oh, uh…" She glanced away, shrugging. "I didn't want to sit on my dress, you know… in case it wrinkled…" The last thing she needed to do was admit she'd been talking to her husband-to-be; Lois might blow a gasket.

"So you decided leaning on the door was a better idea?" She blinked. "Whatever. Look, if you were planning to escape, you can tell me…" Crossing the room, she took Chloe's shoulders and shook her. "I'm your cousin, Chlo… If you need a way out, I've got it." She looked away conspiratorially before leaning in. "I found some old blueprints on this place a few weeks ago so I know a few exits if you need 'em."

Rolling her eyes, Chloe shook her head. "I'm not getting cold feet, Lo."

"If you're sure…" she muttered, unconvinced. "Just keep it in mind."

"I will… I'll be sure to remember that not only you, but Bart, Victor _and_ Dinah have escape plans on the off-chance I decide to ditch a mutual friend of all of you at the altar."

"Friend or not," she scoffed, "This is your _livelihood_ we're talking about."

Chloe blinked. "While I appreciate the concern and loyalty, I think I'm okay."

"You _think_ or you _are?_ " she asked, thinning her eyes questioningly. "This is a no blame zone, cuz. Let it all out!"

She sighed. "Seriously, I'm _happy_ …" Staring at her, she shook her head. "What do I have to do to get you to stop suggesting I run?"

Lois pursed her lips. "I like those new Louboutin shoes you got the other day…"

Snorting, she lifted a brow. "They're yours, all right? Just find out how much longer until the wedding march… _Please!_ "

"Oh yeah, right, I forgot… That's why I was sent up here. You've got two minutes until they're ready for you…" She glanced at her wrist watch. "Which is like thirty seconds _now_ …"

"Fantastic…" Rolling her eyes, Chloe stepped back to check herself in the mirror one last time, smoothing her dress down. "Okay… I'm ready."

Lois grinned. "Lookin' hot, cuz."

Chuckling, she replied, "Thanks." Turning, she left the mirror to stand next to her. "Flowers?"

She handed over the bouquet and then reached for the handle, taking in a deep breath. "All right… Let's get you married."

…

Standing at the beginning of the aisle, Chloe felt the first tickle in her stomach of anticipation. It wasn't fear, wasn't even nerves, really. She'd fought this in the beginning; the two of them being anything more than partners or friends. But then, he had a way of distracting her from her original ideas. So a spoon wasn't the greatest opening for their relationship and it'd reminded her that things between them weren't supposed to be anything more than a beneficial no-strings attached relationship. If he happened to be more stubborn than she ever imagined, it only turned out to be a bonus later.

In the beginning, she thought she was walking in with her eyes wide-open, but as she stepped out from beneath the wedding arbor, she knew she'd had it all wrong from the word Go. And the man at the front with his dimpled chin, deep brown eyes and knowing grin had known the moment he handed her his bow and told her to listen to her heart just what was meant for them. Step by slow step, she walked toward her future, just like she had all those years ago, under the assumption that he wanted no more than somebody he could trust.

Dressed in his dark tuxedo now, with his best friends standing as best men at his back, he looked like he'd been waiting for this all along. He held a hand out to her when she was close enough to reach him, and passing her flowers back to Lois, she took it, letting herself be drawn up in front of the minister, standing face to face with her own personal knight in green leather. He traded it in today for his suit and emerald silk tie, but the hero lay there in the smile, in the glint of his eyes. It wasn't only Chloe and Oliver marrying today, but Watchtower and Green Arrow as well, even if the majority of guests had no idea.

"Friends, family, we've been brought here today to share with Chloe and Oliver a very momentous occasion in their lives," the minister began. "In all their years, their trials and struggles, their love for each other has only grown and deepened. And now, before us, they will pledge themselves to each other as husband and wife. Matrimony is a bond between two people not to be taken lightly. It's a vow to stay true, to love only each other, to build a life and spend it rejoicing in what they have found together." He paused, looking between the couple. "If Oliver would like to begin with his vows…"

He nodded slightly, squeezing Chloe's hands in his. "Chloe… Half the things I want to vow to you today, I can't… because most of the people gathered here would have no idea what I'm talking about." He grinned slightly. "So instead I give you my promise… I promise that I will love you through every computer meltdown, every coffee stop, and every scrape, bruise or dangerous situation you get yourself into…" He stared down at her sincerely. "I, Oliver Queen, take you, Chloe Sullivan, to be my best friend, my partner, my lover and the voice of reason in my head. I vow to be faithful, to you and our cause, to stand by you in sickness and in health, to share with you my joys and my sorrows, to honor, respect and love you, and to never touch your computers without absolute permission." At her chuckle, he grinned wider. "And most of all, I promise to cherish you, to always appreciate what I've found in you, for as long as I still breathe." Raising her hands, he kissed her knuckles as if to seal his vows there.

Swallowing tightly, Chloe blinked back tears. "Ollie…" She licked her shaking lips to give herself time to find her voice. "I want to thank you…" She stared up at him, eyes still damp. "For every day that I hid myself away and you dragged me out… For every time I questioned myself and you made me laugh, made me find the strength I didn't know I had… For making me love again, more than I ever have or ever thought I could…" She squeezed his hands. "I, Chloe Sullivan, take you, Oliver Queen, to be my confidante, to share with you my secrets, big or small. I take you to be my everything; from friend to lover and back again. I promise that I will stay true to you, that I'll support you in all that you do, whether it's crazy or just plain _stupid_ …" She grinned. "I vow to love you, to listen and understand you. To keep your secrets close to my heart and share with you my mistakes and my triumphs, all the days of my life."

"Rings?" the minister asked.

Victor handed his to Oliver while Chloe took hers from Lois.

Holding her hand up, Oliver slid the platinum band with its four rows of round diamonds encrusting the entire outside of the ring onto her finger. "I give this ring to you as a sign of my love and devotion, as a symbol of all that you mean to me."

Taking his hand in hers, Chloe slid his platinum band on, repeating the same back to him.

"Vows and rings exchanged, together we recognize your love and respect for each other. By the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife." He nodded to them. "You may kiss the bride."

Grinning, Chloe wrapped her arms around his neck as he bent low and scooped her up, his mouth laughingly slanting against hers. She had to remind herself to keep it short, even as the heat of his kiss sent shivers down her spine, warming her from the inside out. Stroking her fingers through her hair and down his neck, she felt the same inner-content that came with any kiss from him.

Putting her back down on her feet, he kissed her lingeringly, drawing away slowly, his warm brown eyes staring into hers with the same affection they had years ago, when she'd been naïve enough to think she couldn't love him even a fraction of what she did now.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you… Mr. and Mrs. Queen," the minister announced.

Cheers and applause commenced, loud and shrill, demanding attention and being refused.

Oliver never took his eyes off her, instead leaning down to kiss her once, twice, and then burying a hand around her neck and kneading gently. "It's gonna be great, you know?"

She lifted a brow.

"Growing old with you," he murmured.

She felt her smile right down into her heart.

She was glad, really, that he'd made her fall in love with him back then, as slowly and as sneakily as he had. Because today, standing here with him, she knew it was where she was always meant to be. Chloe Queen; partner in crime, secret fellow hero, and wife to Oliver.

Distracted then by well-wishers, she kept her hand in his even while hugging friends and family. Now that she had him and her happily ever after, she wasn't letting go. Not ever.


	116. Tramp Stamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe did something a little spontaneous but it might work out better than expected.

 

Chloe Sullivan was not the kind of girl who got ink on her body. Maybe under the intense fog of tequila, she'd get a butterfly or something decidedly feminine. But initials or a guy's name, uh, _no_. Which is why Lois was fairly sure she was _seeing things_. Because there was absolutely no way that her little cousin had letters scrawled along the small of her back.

With very little interest in personal space, Lois crossed the few feet between them, grabbed the hem of Chloe's shirt and yanked up.

"Whoa! Hey there!" Chloe cried, reaching to drag her shirt back into place while staring, brows furrowed, at her cousin. "Is there a _reason_ you're readjusting my clothes? Because you can just _tell_ me there's a problem next time." She cocked a brow, smiling curiously.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Lois lifted her chin stubbornly. "Lemme see your back."

"What? Why?" she wondered incredulously.

"Does it _matter?_ "

"Well, it's not exactly my usual good morning from you. And hi, by the way. I see you found your way over, sans a coffee for me." She rolled her eyes lightly before tucking her hands in her pocket and cocking her head. "What's with the sudden interest in my back?"

"What's with the sudden need not to show me?" Lois argued back.

"Uh, the fact that your request is _weird_ , to say the least."

"If you _show_ me, it'll all be over with and I can explain."

"Or you can _explain_ and then I'll consider _showing_ you."

They stared at each other, eyes narrowed, before Lois cracked. "Just show me your back, Chloe!"

"No!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms atop her chest stubbornly.

Lois gasped. "It's really there, isn't it!"

She shook her head. " _What_ are you even talking about?"

"You-! You-!" She threw her hands up. "You got a _tramp stamp!_ "

"I _what?_ " She laughed shortly. "I feel like I need a Lois-made-dictionary around you sometimes."

"Don't change the subject! You got a tattoo, and on the small of your _back_ of all places! That's like putting a target on you and saying, 'Hey, I'm easy!'"

"Lois!" she blustered. "Lots of people have tattoos there!"

"Yeah, well you _didn't._ At least not until _recently!_ " Pacing, she shook her head. "And it was letters, Chloe, three very distinct letters."

"You hardly even saw anything! You're jumping to conclusions."

"Tattoos are forever!" She frowned. "Or okay, they are unless you can afford a laser treatment that's entirely too costly. And if it doesn't work out, I hardly think he'll pay to get his name removed from your body! So… Yeah!"

"Are you supposed to be on some kind of medication that you just didn't tell me about?"

"Don't turn this around on me!" Lois sighed, shoulders slumping. "Just tell me the truth… Did you or did you not get Oliver's name _tattooed_ onto your person?"

Chloe stared at her a long moment, took a breath as if to argue and then deflated. "Not… _quite_ …"

Lois blinked, waiting impatiently for an explanation.

"Just his initials…" She bit her lip, wincing. "It was a really spontaneous thing that just sort of, well, _happened_. And… I mean, it's not ugly. It's a really beautiful cursive and I like the colors and…" She sighed, rolling her eyes. "I know how bad it looks. I mean, a tattoo and we aren't even _technically_ dating, but…"

"Oh please, I call bullshit!" Lois harrumphed. "You two are so far past the 'friends with benefits' line that it's not even funny. Not that I'm supporting the tattoo. That, I really hope doesn't come back to bite you in the ass." Frowning, she rolled her eyes. "Now lemme see it."

Sighing, Chloe turned around, lifting her shirt up her waist until it was bunched high enough that her tattoo could be seen. Standing behind her, Lois stared with a critical eye, lips pursed.

"Well?"

"It's… pretty nice for a colossal mistake."

She snorted. "Gee, thanks."

"Well, maybe it won't turn out bad, right? I mean, you and Ollie, that's like… kind of perfect."

Cocking a brow, Chloe turned back around. "How is something _kind of_ perfect?"

"Well, you'll have your differences. And look at the kind of lives you'll live together. Crime fighting and always trying to stay a step ahead of the bad guy and codenames and tights and—"

"He says they're not tights," she interrupted with a wry grin.

"Oh, please, they're so tights!"

"I know!"

They laughed lightly, shaking their heads.

"So I guess you'll just have to make the best of this right. I mean, it's done, it's not going anywhere…" Lois shrugged.

"Yeah…" She bit her lip. "Now if only I could convince Oliver playtime should only be at night, with the lights off…"

"He doesn't _know?_ " Lois' eyes widened. "How did he not _see_ that?"

"He's easily distracted?" she offered, shrugging.

"Uh, no… I can safely say when in the throes, Oliver is paying a _lot_ of attention."

Chloe shook her head. "Yeah, sharing details about a mutual lover, not really fun."

"Sorry."

"In any case, he hasn't said anything, so… I just assume he hasn't noticed it yet."

"And you plan to keep it a secret from him for…" Lois shook her head wonderingly. "How long?"

"As long as humanly possible," she suggested hopefully. And then sighed at Lois' disagreeable expression. "Look, it's not easy admitting I did something this completely out of character so early in a _non-_ relationship."

"It's not a non-relationship. We had this discussion. If you two aren't totally in love with each other, my name's not Lois Lane." She rolled her eyes. "And besides, maybe he'll be flattered."

"Of course he will," she agreed. "And then he'll get completely weirded out and think I'm asking for the kind of commitment I was dead set against from the beginning."

Lois stared at her, lips pursed, and then asked simply, "If you were so against it, _why_ are his initials permanently inked onto your skin?"

Chloe sighed. "I plead the fifth… and if that doesn't work… _insanity_."

Reaching over, Lois squeezed her shoulder. "No worries, cuz… If it doesn't work out, we'll turn it into a flower or something. Much cheaper."

She laughed, smiling. Her cousin was nothing if not supportive.

…

Hours later, Chloe lay panting exhaustedly with her face half-buried in a pillow.

Sprawled next to her, Oliver was grinning. "And you wanted to wait until tonight," he reminded cockily.

She smiled, opening an eye to look at him. "Your powers of persuasion get better each time."

He smirked, rolling onto his side. "I'm starting to think you say no just so I'll put those powers to good use."

She cocked a brow. "And if I do?"

Reaching over, he tucked her hair behind her ear, thumb lingering to caress her cheek. "I'm not complaining."

She chuckled lightly. "After what I just did there, you better not be!"

Grinning, he nodded. "Pretty sure you're getting more talented too."

"Practice makes perfect," she murmured on a sigh, stretching her legs out along the bed.

His hand smoothed across her shoulder and slid slowly down her back, fingers kneading.

"Mmm…" she moaned, relaxing into his touch. "Already?"

He laughed lightly, sidling closer to kiss her shoulder.

As his fingers delved lower on her back, she felt the sheet moving with him and her eyes flew open. Quickly, she began turning herself, stopped halfway by his hand and the pressure at her hip. Sliding his hand lower, he hooked it around her knee, drawing her up against his body and tossing her leg atop his hip. Lying on her side, pressed tight against him, she comforted herself with the fact that as long as his face was near hers, his eyes weren't on her nearly week old tattoo.

Fingers trailing slowly along the back of her thigh, she shivered as he palmed her butt, squeezing appreciatively before gliding his hand up along her back once more. It was as his forefinger drew shapes exactly overtop her tattoo that she tensed. Trying to calm herself, she spread her hands along his chest and dragged them down, enjoying the way the defined muscles felt beneath her palms.

Oliver leaned in, his forehead touching hers and his warm brown eyes gazing into hers. "Sensitive?" he wondered, nose nuzzling hers.

Her brows narrowed in question. His fingers pressed against the small of her back and her hips jerked forward, meeting his. Eyes widened, she stared at him.

His mouth curled at one corner. "You didn't honestly think I hadn't noticed?"

Her mouth opened as if she wanted to reply but closed when she found no words.

"The always practical Chloe Sullivan… _inked_." He smirked slowly. "And with my name, too."

She pursed her lips stubbornly. "I could be madly in love with… Orville James Quincy, for all you know."

He grinned widely. " _Orville_ , really? That's the best you can do?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Hey! Don't mock my future husband!"

He laughed thickly. "I'm sorry, future Mrs. Chloe Quincy. I had no idea you were so _enamored_ with your lover _Orville_."

Lips firmed to keep herself from laughing, she rolled her eyes. "So I did something a little less practical and happened to use the initials of your name in a very spontaneous trip to the tattoo parlor." She held up a hand, intent on stopping his likely line of thinking. "It's nothing to read into."

Cocking a brow, he squeezed her hip before tugging her forward until she was sprawled on her stomach once more. Sliding down the bed, he stroked his fingers along her tattoo wonderingly. "It's nice."

She sighed. "Lois suggested getting it turned into a flower."

He frowned. "I thought she was rooting for us?"

"She… _is_. I guess." Shrugging, she added, "She just said that if it didn't work out, laser therapy was expensive… That and a flower was less trampy. Apparently the small of my back was a _bad_ place to get a tattoo…" She trailed off questioningly.

"Hm." He continued to trace the letters of his name along her back, his finger light and teasing. "And if we do work out? What do you this'll look like in fifty years?"

"Wrinkly?" she suggested, amused.

He grinned, leaned over and pressed a kiss in the center of her tattoo before crawling back up to lay next to her once more. "So why not keep it? Give it a chance; see if you grow into it."

She stared at him a moment, reading between the lines. "No growing needed," she murmured. "Spontaneous or not, I got it for a reason. And I like it… Maybe even love it." She smiled, reaching out to feather her fingers through his mussed hair. "And in fifty years, when it wrinkles, you better have some money put off to the side to smooth it out."

He laughed, grinned at her warmly. "Maybe you'll start a trend." He cocked a brow. "What do you think? I could get 'Belongs to Chloe' right along my ribs… Or Sullivan Property on my forehead?" He smirked teasingly. "Unless you think the small of my back is a good place… Do guys do that?"

Laughing, she shook her head, before reaching over to shove his chest. Catching her hand, he held it pressed atop his heart. "You know you're already a part of me, right?" He stared at her seriously. Fingers falling to twine between hers, he curled his thumb around her wrist to stroke her pulse. "And that will never fade or wrinkle or need plastic surgery in the next fifty years."

She smiled slowly. "Big commitment, Romeo."

"Not as much as a tramp stamp, but it'll have to do," he replied with a grin.

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Ollie?"

"Hm?"

"Did you just call me a tramp?"

"Mm, no," he said, turning his eyes up. "That word is definitely not part of my expansive vocabulary."

"Mmhmm." She pursed her lips.

"But… I'm willing to make it up to you, regardless." Leaning her back across the bed, he slid sinuously between her legs. "If you're up for it."

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she quirked a brow. "Always."

…

**_Fifty Years Later_ **

Chloe was bent over her vegetable garden, cursing the arthritis in her knees for acting up on such a nice day. When she found a stray arrow in her eggplant patch, she rolled her eyes. Oliver must've been teaching the grandkids a few more tricks with their new bows. Did he always have to do it near her garden, though? She smiled to herself, shaking her head.

Sitting back on her legs, she tugged her hands free of her gardening gloves and plucked her hat from her head, using it as a fan while she wiped the sweat from her brow. She was getting too old for this, she was sure. Seventy-four if she was a day and she was many, many days. After all her years in the League and her not-so-usual life before it, sometimes she just couldn't believe she'd actually made it this far. There'd been close calls and entirely too many hospital stays, but here she was, and with only a few aches and pains to complain about.

As a shadow fell across her, she grinned. Tall, wide-shouldered; she knew who that was. Turning, she held her hand above her eyes to block the sun and smiled warmly up at her husband. Grey hair had long replaced the golden blonde he'd had in his youth and wrinkles fanned out from the corners of warm brown eyes. He knelt, passed her a glass of lemonade and quirked a brow. "Nice eggplant," he said, nodding toward it.

"Nice shooting," she replied before taking a long drink from her sweating glass.

"That would be Jamie's fault… Kid likes to shoot with his eyes closed. I told him that's the quickest way to injure someone." He half-smiled. "At least the eggplant can't hit us with a lawsuit."

She snorted, lifting a grey brow. "All these years and still witty."

"Still handsome, too," he boasted lightly.

Chuckling, she handed him back her empty glass. "What're you doing home? I thought you were visiting Robbie today. You guys had League business to discuss, didn't you?"

"He's having some trouble at home." He smirked, amused. "Seems our eldest son is having a few troubles with his eldest daughter… Something about a tattoo she shouldn't have."

Chloe shook her head. "Nicole got a tattoo?"

"Apparently."

"Where?"

He lifted a slow, suggestive brow.

Chloe reached for the small of her own back knowingly and then shook her head. "Maybe she can get it turned into a flower."

"Never know," Oliver sighed. "Could be a great decision on her part."

"Hm." Leaning over, she kissed her husband lingeringly. Fifty years and she didn't regret a moment. "If she's lucky."

Plopping her hat back on her head for her, he rocked back on his feet to stand. "Luck has nothing to do with it… I fell in love with a tramp and she happened to feel the same. Inked or not, I still would have married her."

Laughing, she shook her head. "This tramp is going to make you sleep on the couch if you don't watch it!"

Chuckling, Oliver left her to her gardening and returned to the house. Smiling, Chloe dug through the dirt, and felt a warmth bloom in her chest that never quite faded after all these years. That man had given her all she could ever want or need and she'd returned the favor. If her granddaughter had found the same, she wished her the best. It was a long, crazy ride, but it was worthwhile.


	117. Bourbon Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's a giggly drunk.

She's a giggly drunk; the kind that dances with no specific move in mind, laughing all the while. She looks free and happy and some part of him can't help but be glad that he's baring witness to this part of her. She's so hard lately; so jaded and weary and waiting for the worst. When they got together he'd hoped that might fade; yes, it was just sex, but he thought it would relieve some of her stress and return her to that sweet person he'd once known. It doesn't. If anything, now he feels like she has more secrets and more problems and while he's right there, within reach, with an ear open and a shoulder to cry on, she won't let herself do that. She'll touch him, kiss him, lay completely naked before him on a bed of green satin sheets, but she won't tell him why it hurts, how he can make it stop.

When he gets home from patrolling, she's there; she's already drunk half a bottle of bourbon and while his lower half reacts to how she's provocatively dancing almost half-naked in his living room, his upper-brain is wondering what brought her down so much. He can't help but watch though, as her hips rock side to side, her skirt drawn up almost indecently high, showing off long, taut thighs. She's unbuttoned her blouse, untucked it from her skirt, and it hanged open, revealing her bra-cupped breasts and creamy skin. It slides down her shoulders, hangs at her elbows as she raises her arms and dances in circles, barefoot and on her tip-toes, listening to the music from the stereo as she grins to herself, eyes closed.

He swallows tightly as she twirls, as she laughs freely, a warm ripple of a giggle escaping her throat. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair in disarray as if she's combed through it with her fingers and left it wild. The confines of his leather pants seem tighter, too much so, and he knows he's going to take her before he gets any answers. He has to shake it off because there's obviously something wrong, something that had her coming to him, getting wasted, and playing the innocent drunk in his living room. Chloe Sullivan never lets down her guard and for her to do it now means he has to pay attention. Curling his fingers into fists with resolve, he winces; his left palm is sliced open thanks to a jerk waving a knife around recklessly; at least it gives him something to focus on rather than her petite dancing form.

Leaving her to her fun, he finds the bathroom and cleans out the scrape with iodine before wrapping it in gauze. He takes the time to change out of his leather outfit too; exchanging it for loose sweat pants and a black muscle shirt. He'll need a barrier between them and he knows as soon as her fingers are on his skin he's going to start giving in. Just the thought of her out there, heated up and interested in doing more than just grinding air made him hard and wanting. He shook it off, however, took a deep breath and told himself he would _not_ screw this up.

When he steps into the living room, she's bent over at the stereo, searching for another CD. He follows her feet to her waist, pausing as he sees green lace peeking from between her thighs. Scrubbing a hand down his mouth, he swallows tightly. She's going to be the death of him. Walking toward her, he tries to keep his eyes on the back of her blonde head, on riotous curls, but his gaze slides to the nape of her neck, the slopes of her soft, bare shoulders, and follows the line of her curved spine. He clears his throat, partly to stop himself from giving in and also to alert her he was there.

Had she been sober she would've seen him coming before he'd even arrived back at the penthouse.

She whirls around, eyes wide and startled but mouth curling with a becoming smile. "Hey…" she greets, forgetting her music to walk toward him.

His mouth goes dry the closer she gets and he almost backs away when her hands reach for him. He stands his ground though, even when her palms lay flat on his chest, fingers curling as if she wants to get rid of it already and sink her nails into his flesh. _Oh god…_ He wants to give in.

"Party started without you…"

He glances at the bourbon on the coffee table and to the shoes she kicked off, her purse dropped on the couch alongside her suit jacket. "I can see that…" Unable to help himself, his hands fall to her hips and squeeze. "What are we celebrating?" he asks, staring into her deep green eyes, searching for some kind of sign.

She looks away, smile wavering. "Can't we just have a little fun once in awhile?" she wonders before turning her eyes back to his. "Forget everything and every _one_ else…"

He wants to be her solace, the one person she can turn to, but he also knows that she wants sex, that she thinks this is all it's about. And it isn't, it never has been for him. He didn't figure that out until the first night she let him touch her though; until the moment he heard her cry his name and arch for his questing mouth. The moment he kissed her, took her lips as if they were his now, property of Oliver Queen, he knew he was done for. She'd kick his ass if she heard his possessive thoughts but he couldn't help that Neanderthal shortcoming.

"And who are we trying to forget?" he asks, sliding his hands up her sides, thumbs rubbing her naked skin.

"Mm…" she moans, eyes fluttering as she leans her body in close to him. "Everybody who isn't you and me!"

He likes the sound of that; even wants to drown the rest of the world out with the other half of the bourbon and focus all of himself on _them_. But it's not alls he's talking about, he knows. She might not let him in far, but he still knows her better than just about anyone.

"Can I get any names?"

Pouting, she glowers up at him. "You're not playing the game, Ollie!"

He half-smirks. "And what game's that, Sidekick?"

She glares but she was too drunk to pull it off with her usual blunt anger. "We banter, we make-out, and then we screw until I'm very, _very_ satisfied…" Sliding her hands up his chest, she cards her fingers through his hair. "No questions asked, remember?"

She's drawing him down and he's weak enough to let her. He can feel her breath on his lips, her nose nuzzling his, and watches as her eyes fall closed. Her hips sidle in close, pressed against his just right, and for a moment he feels himself let go, give in, and then she kisses him and he can taste the liquor on her tongue. Chloe drank, but never this much, never so much that she lost _all_ of her inhibitions. She's always careful to keep some barriers between them; it wasn't until she was half-drunk on sex that she let a more intimate side of herself show. Then, exhausted, she might let things slip, might talk to him about how she was feeling or work. But when it got too close, she always pulled away, even when it was obvious he wasn't.

Drawing back from her, he lingers, kissing her lips lightly before he sighs. "Can I guess?"

Thumbs rubbing his neck, forehead pressed to his, she nods ever-so-slightly.

"Clark?"

She wrinkles her nose, shakes her head.

"Lois?"

Same response.

He hesitates to ask the next name, but breathes it out regardless. "Jimmy?"

He's tense, awaiting the inevitable hurt that would mask her face.

But she does no more than shake her head.

Now he's confused. There's not a whole lot of people that were close enough to Chloe to bother her.

"The team?"

She blows out an annoyed breath. "One in particular," she allows.

"Okay…"

She hasn't talked to AC or Dinah in a week or two; they were both on missions out of state and he doesn't see any reason why either of them would butt heads with her. Bart stops in often but if his constant flirting hasn't driven her nuts, he doesn't know what the young speedster could have possible done. And Victor isn't usually the type to get this kind of reaction; he and Chloe don't argue, well, ever.

Which leaves _him_.

"Is it… _me?_ "

It doesn't make sense to him considering the last person someone would usually go to was the one that bugged them, but then logic didn't often run hand-in-hand with alcohol.

Loosening her arms from him, she steps back, turns and starts walking sloppily away. "See… This is why there's no questions!" she exclaims. "It's like you already know the answers. So why bother asking?" Throwing her arms into the air, she whirls back around, eyes narrowed at him. "This is _all your fault_ , Oliver Queen!"

Frowning, his brows furrowed. "Care to elaborate?"

Sighing, she makes a grunting noise of aggravation. "You're _so_ … And then you… And then _I_ … And _we_ …!"

Half-smiling, he shakes his head. "Not quite up to date on the picture here yet… Maybe whole sentences would help." At her scowl, he shrugs. "Just a suggestion."

Shaking her head, she begins pacing, and as she does so she raises her hands to comb through her hair, but the way her blouse is hanging makes it uncomfortable, so the next thing he knows she's yanked it off and thrown it away. For that matter, she apparently decides most of her clothes are not needed, as she was soon undoing her skirt and kicking it away too. Now walking back and forth in her green panties and black bra, she mumbles angrily to herself.

He's starting to think just ignoring the problem might've been a better idea.

Sighing, he walks toward her. He's already half-way into the doghouse, might as well finish the job. "Chloe…?" Reaching out, he takes her arm and tugs her to a stop. "Can you just talk to me? Please?" Staring down at her searchingly, he waits for her to figure out what she wants to do. "I have no idea why you're mad and I _want_ to, I do…"

Suddenly, anger melts into sadness. " _That!_ " she exclaims. "That is why I'm upset!"

He blinks. "Huh?"

"You!" Growling, she shoves him, only more annoyed when he doesn't so much as budge. "You're so _understanding_ and _accepting_ and you always want to talk or listen or- or _hold me_!" she spits each reason like they're something to be guilty for. "How is this supposed to be _just sex_ when you're making me fall for you every single time? It's like… like you can't _help_ it… You're just always there and you're so _snarky_ and you've got an answer for everything I say and you just make me feel so…" Shaking her head, she blinks back tears. "You just make me _feel_ and I don't _want_ to… I don't want to, Oliver…"

Surprised, he isn't sure what to say, so instead he hugs her. Wrapping his arms around her, he draws her close until her face is buried in his chest. And she fights him at first, tries to push him away, but then she sags, letting loose, and just cries. Hands gripping the back of his shirt, she sobs, shoulders shaking, and she lets him hold her up. He strokes her hair, murmurs against her ear, and rubs her back; does whatever he thinks might calm her down, might make her feel like this is okay. It's a few minutes before she stops, before she's all cried out and the tears are done. And then she's just holding him back, her arms falling to hang loose around his waist, fingers knotted at his back.

"'m tired," she tells him.

Half-smiling, he nods and reaches down to pick her up in his arms. She gives a slight shriek, her arms wrapping around his neck, and she looks up at him, smiling. The tears are still there, wetting her cheeks, but she's not weighed down by them anymore.

"You still mad?" he asks, walking toward his room.

She shakes her head, eyes falling as she plays with a loose thread on his shirt.

"Still drunk?"

Chuckling, she nods. "Verrrry…"

Laughing under his breath, he lays her down on the bed and grins as she scurries under the blankets.

But as he steps back to leave she makes a noise of disapproval. "Where do you think _you're_ going?"

Amused by her, he looks back. "Thought I'd clean up the mess you made of my living room…"

Shaking her head, she falls back on the pillows with a sigh. "Come to bed."

Leaning in the doorway, she cocks a brow. "You really think you've got it in you to keep up tonight, Sidekick?"

She glares witheringly, "Shut up and come to bed." Pointing to the empty side next to her, she motions impatiently for him to join her.

With a laugh, he closes the bedroom door and crosses the room to lay down next to her. Cuddling up close, she seems to relax into him in a way she's only done after mind-blowing sex. And then she sits up suddenly and he thinks she's come back to her senses. His heart stops in his chest, his stomach clenching. But with a grunt of irritation, she only undoes her bra, tosses it away and then lays back down. Calm like he's never known, overwhelming relief, floods him. Arm wrapped around his body, she lays her head on his chest, tucks it against his shoulder and closes her eyes. "Better," she murmurs on a sigh.

With the blankets pulled up around them, he wraps an arm around her back, bandaged hand laying just over her side, while his other hand slides up to cup her bicep, thumb gently stroking her skin. Looking down at her as she lays completely comfortable, nearly naked and cocooning herself in him, he feels his smile slide away. Would she even remember this in the morning? he has to wonder.

"Oliver?" she drunk-whispers, which means she's not nearly as quiet as she thinks.

"Hmm?"

"I kinda love you," she breathes softly.

Stroking her hair back from her temple, he swallows thickly. "I love you, too."

"Mm," she sighs dreamily. "Night."

He nods tremulously. "Good night."

And as she falls asleep with her lips curled in a smile, Oliver can only hope that come morning, she doesn't take it all back. He can't sleep, can't close his eyes, in fear that it will all become a dream. With dawn approaching, he hopes for the best, because while she can only admit to deeper things when drunk on bourbon, he's already come to grips with the reality of it. He does and will love her the rest of his life and now all he has to do is make her realize she feels the exact same way.


	118. Along for the Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a reason Chloe wasn't one of his ex-girlfriends; why she wasn't just a stop on the roadmap of his life but a passenger along for the ride.

The relationships of Oliver Queen's past rarely had anything to do with comfort or support. And if he were being honest, his past involved only two women that had helped shape him; helped turn him into the man he was today. There were dozens of women before, after and even during; faces he couldn't remember, vague and not worth the hassle. Women who hadn't wanted any more from him than he was willing to give; more interested in the name or the fame. Tess Mercer and Lois Lane did not fit into that category and while they probably would have provided the kind of comfort and support he needed he never truly let them, and their time together had only proved to be a stepping-stone in his life; a means to and end, a pause in his long journey.

Oliver couldn't regret what he had with either of them; he can't say he wished he never met Mercy or that all they'd gone through had never been as dark or as painful as it was. He couldn't even say he wished he hadn't cheated on her or broke her heart, because in the end they were lessons he needed to learn, lessons that he wouldn't have understood fully if he hadn't seen the raw pain in the eyes of a woman willing to do _anything_ for him. And neither could he say he wished he and Lois hadn't had their painful break-up or the long period of time he spent wishing he had her back. He'd spent so long wishing he could be the man she needed, trying to find a way to balance his second life with the one he wanted with her that he hadn't realized until it was too late that he was trying too hard to be someone he wasn't for someone who didn't love him anymore. So, in the end, Oliver took from the experiences with his two former loves what he needed and though it hurt, both them and him, he grew into a better man for it.

Which was why, now, he could give in to the reassuring hands squeezing his shoulders, to the supportive voice of his wife as she asked him, "What's wrong?" and "What can I do to help?"

Chloe was not Lois, though they were the best of friends and the closest of cousins. She was tenacious and bullheaded, much like Lois, but she had an inner-calm, a calculative mind, and a quick understanding of all things that Lois often lacked. While her older cousin was beautiful and loud and always ready to jump into the middle of any fight, Chloe was the underdog who kept getting up no matter the circumstances; she was the voice of reason calling for a hero to help others rather than herself. She was Watchtower – keeper of heroes and eyes for the weak. And unlike both of Oliver's previous girlfriends, Chloe had a soft side that she let out, despite having her heart stomped on time and time again. Where once she wore it on her sleeve, letting it be beaten and scarred, now she left it in his capable hands, where she knew it would be safe.

Sitting in the quiet of the Star City Gazette, surrounded by dark desks, lamps turned off and chairs long empty, he stared mindlessly at the floor, his thoughts far away. He'd been waiting for her to finish up her latest article, not wanting to bother her with what had been plaguing him of late. He didn't jump when her hands touched his shoulders; her scent had long thickened every breath he took and so he'd known she was coming closer. And her touch had long become expected, welcomed, familiar. She squeezed, her thumbs flicking to stroke his neck like the often did.

"We almost lost Mia tonight," he murmured, quiet, pensive.

Her chin falls, hits the top of his head, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. "Almost?"

"She's banged up, a little shaken… Sleeping it off back at the tower." His jaw ticked as he remembered the blood that dripped down her shoulder, at the moment of terror that crossed her face when a knife-wielding man lunged for her again, bent on finishing the job. An arrow had dropped him like a sack of potatoes before he could follow through, but if he'd been just a second or two slower… His shoulders tensed, his entire body following.

"And what'd _she_ say?" Chloe wondered, one of her brows no doubt arched.

He pursed his lips. "That it was close but no big deal… That she's fine and we should stop worrying…" He shook his head. "How am I supposed to do that?" His hands fisted, knuckles white with the pressure. "She almost _died_."

"I seem to remember you were the same… Still _are_ , even." She sighed, moving to cross in front of him, to take a seat in his lap and wrap a loose arm around his neck. "Ollie…" she said in her _patient_ voice; the one she used when she was trying to make him see the _obvious_. "This job is dangerous. It will always _be_ dangerous…" She stared up at him, catching his eyes and holding. "If every hero stopped trying because they nearly died the world would fall apart." Reaching up, she cupped his face, stroked his cheek gently. "I've seen you beaten, broken, and bleeding I can't even _count_ how many times… And you've considered giving it all up before but never because you were hurt. Because you didn't think you were _enough_ for the people; enough of a _hero_ to keep them safe." Her eyes narrowed. "What makes you think Mia doesn't feel the same? That it's not the danger that worries her but being enough to _you_ or to others to let herself know that she is _capable_ and _wanted_ …"

His jaw loosened. "I don't want her to get hurt…" He stared into her eyes searchingly. "If I hadn't been there—"

"There are too many 'If's' for you to start listing them all now," she interrupted, her face set sternly. "We all make this decision because we know what we can do, what we can offer, and as much as you're worried you have to know that Mia knows the circumstances and what can happen to her. I will bet you _anything_ that she's gone over this situation a _million_ times in her head; she's not sleeping, she's wondering… And tomorrow, she will don her suit, she'll patrol, and she'll fight, just like every other night." She smiled. "Because she's a _hero_ , Ollie… Just like you."

He sighed heavily, his breath escaping him so thickly it was if all of his pent up worries and fears and second-guessings had left with it. A small smile turned up his lips. "How'd I get such a smart wife, anyway?"

She grinned. "Your good looks and money helped."

He laughed, because he knew it was never that which got him into her good graces. Well, okay, the looks probably helped. But really, it was how hard he tried, how every day he was there, for and with her; how he learned to be supportive and comforting because he knew it was what she needed in her life. She needed a man who would understand her, who would stand by her, and he wanted so much to _be_ that person for her that he had to learn how, he had to put away the self-involved ways of his life and let what he'd learned from previous relationships mould him, so he could be more to her than just that _booty call_ when days were hard. It was how they got here; how years later he was still with the only woman who knew him inside and out, who knew his secrets and his fears, his mistakes and his triumphs, and who stood by him through everything.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he squeezed, leaning forward so their foreheads met. His eyes fell closed and for a moment he just breathed; he sucked in the air that was lightly dappled with the scent of her hair and the stray lingering notes of her perfume dabbed at her throat and inner-wrists. He slid a large hand up her back, squeezed her shoulder and just held on; letting his entire body relax, his mind following. And with all the honesty they promised long ago to always share, he admitted, "After I got her patched up and left her to sleep, I started walking… I saw a bar, I heard the familiar noise, the clinking of bottles, and I thought… God, it would be _so easy_ …"

Her fingers stroked the back of his neck lightly; never pausing, not a worry to be felt.

"And then I _kept_ walking, kept moving, and my feet brought me here… to you." With a thick swallow, he drew back, stared at her, genuine and honest adoration in every plain of his face. "You know…?"

_I love you._

_I will always love you._

It went unsaid but always known. Still, he voiced it with his eyes, with the touch of his fingers at the nape of her neck, beneath the long curls of her blonde hair.

She smiled, nodded ever so slightly. "I know."

_I love you, too._

_ Always _ _._

His mouth lifted on one side, his heart skipping a beat as he felt acceptance and understanding deep inside his weary bones. "You done?" he wondered.

She glanced at her computer and then lifted a shoulder. "Done and hungry."

He grinned then, moving to stand and balancing her so she caught her footing as she followed suit. "How about take-out and a well-deserved foot rub at home?"

"If you're doing the rubbing," she teased, smiling.

He bent, kissed her temple and then reached back for his jacket off the chair. "Rock, Paper, Scissors?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Just because you spent half the night running around in leather and playing hero…"

"I happen to look _incredible_ in that leather," he argued, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she buttoned up her red pea-coat.

She waggled her brows playfully. "No arguments here."

"How about a joint effort?" He lifted his brows. "You rub mine, I rub yours."

She smirked. "Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you?" Wrapping an arm around his waist, she squeezed. "You haven't even bought me dinner yet."

"It's a good thing I have take-out menu's in my car then…" he mused.

She shook her head, chuckling under her breath. "You come prepared."

"I'm no Boyscout," he said with a slight smirk, "But I know _you_ pretty damn well."

She looked up at him, her head cocked slightly. "Who needs a Boyscout when I've got you?"

Together, they walked out into the near empty streets of Star City, the night bright and twinkling above the modern skyscrapers that littered the area. "Think we should get Mia anything?" she wondered.

"Besides an ice-pack?" he scoffed.

She rolled her eyes lightly. "You know how much she loves fortune cookies."

"When'd we agree on Chinese?"

"And you said you _knew_ me…"

He laughed. "I do… Which is why Wong's is already on its way to our apartment… with an extra bag of fortune cookies for our favorite banged-up teenager."

Her brows rose with pleasant surprise. "How'd you know we'd be done by now? Your brooding tends to last _much_ longer…"

"I didn't…" He shrugged. "Which is probably why whoever's delivering is going to be expecting a big damn tip."

Shaking her head, she laughed as they picked up speed toward the car. Oliver smiled to himself, happy that he'd come here rather than stop at Brady's Pub. There was a reason Chloe wasn't one of his ex-girlfriends; why she wasn't just a stop on the roadmap of his life but a passenger along for the ride. Maybe Lois and Tess had helped build the man he was, but the woman who got to benefit from their misfortune was his wife. There were still cracks to be filled, still uncertainties to be soothed, but she was the best person for the job.

"So what do you think your cookie will say?" she wondered as she buckled her seatbelt.

He grinned, staring at her a moment. "The love of your life is sitting right across from you…"

She shook her head, even as her lips curved into a smile and a warm flush filled her cheeks. "Funny… I think I got the same one."

What luck.


	119. The Night is Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At night, they're not soldiers… Just two humans in love.
> 
> [Pandora Timeline]

The bell tower was empty; the old rusty ringer long forgotten in the city of Metropolis. Where once it rang high and clear for all to hear, singing praises for the many Sundays of mass, now it was no more than a reminder of the past. High above, overlooking the near-empty city landscape, where walking the streets meant being a target for the powerful Kandorians out to enslave all humans, a round window gave a view worth sighing over. Night had fallen some hours ago and Oliver knew that if he turned to look he wouldn't be able to see them, but they'd be out there. Their team, their not-so-merry band of resistance; fighting the aliens that meant to destroy them all. They were quick and quiet and went unnoticed; hiding in dark alleys, dressed in clothes that let them blend easily into the dirty and shadowed background. Always moving, planning, ready to do what had to be done.

It was these rare moments where he tried to forget that, however. Where the moon glowed an eerie red from the backlight of the monstrous sun that had taken over the Earth. So he didn't look, he didn't turn dark brown eyes outward to see if he might spot one of their men or women, their soldiers for justice. Instead, he held Chloe; he felt her warm breath skitter across his chest. Her head perched on his shoulder, hair soft beneath his cheek. The breeze that swept through the glassless window was warm; it seemed days and nights were the same temperature. Like a dusty town with rolling tumbleweeds in the streets for a little cliché character. Where once the streets were busy, the sidewalks bustling with people and vendors, with _life_ , now there were empty stores, dirt collecting where once feet would have been treading constantly.

It would have been smarter for them to hide away in the shelter; in the carefully guarded buildings where their team lived and slept; where he and Chloe shared a bedroom that was secluded from eyes. Instead, they lay in the curve of the window, no doubt easily noticeably by any Kandorian out for a late night fly-by. Still, neither of them tensed or worried. Their clothes long tossed in aimless piles around the dusty floor, Chloe was draped across him; her hand reaching for his far shoulder, thumb stroking absently. Her could feel her bare breasts against his ribs; the cool, softness of her naked skin aligned with his body. They came here when everything and everyone else became too much; when responsibilities needed to be put away for a time and they could just be themselves; the two of them, outside of war.

"We have to be back before daybreak," she murmured, nuzzling his chest with her face. "They'll worry if we aren't…"

"They'll survive."

He stared off into the distance, vaguely making out the building that once served as their Watchtower. They hadn't been back in so long; preferring to keep any attention far away from their last resort. Inside laid his Green Arrow gear; he couldn't quite remember what it felt like to have leather against his skin. It'd been so long; it'd just been dark clothes and bandanas around their faces lately; like the low-key vigilantes they had to be. Once, their hero days were so much more technological; there were missions that had to be strategized for days, weeks, even. Big businesses destroying the little people; rogue scientists out to play with the unsuspecting. And now it was all aliens and war and kryptonite weapons… When had it all become so complicated?

"You say that now… Wait until we get back and they're interrogating us; thinking we've somehow been brainwashed by the Kryptonians," she scoffed.

"Bart needs to stop reading those sci-fi books," he laughed, shaking his head. "He's got a real one going on right outside his window."

She smiled, nodding. "He thinks it'll give us the advantage… Like somehow they'll have the answer hidden away in Chapter 14 – Revenge of the Humans…" She rolled her eyes, amused by their younger soldier; one of entirely too many teenagers forced to join the resistance; to grow up too early.

"If he's got a plan, I'm willing to hear it… Even if it involves laser beams or 50's music played over the loudspeaker."

She scoffed, looking up at him. "Mars Attacks? Really?"

He grinned at her, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

She pursed her lips to keep from smiling and rested her head against him once more.

His thumb stroked her arm, palm cupping her elbow lightly. She'd be soothed into a half-sleep in no time; the aftereffects of sex having already drained most of her energy. She didn't sleep enough and any opportunity they got, he encouraged.

Her nose wrinkled. "I know what you're doing…" She tried to sound like she disagreed but there was a slur to her words.

His mouth quirked in a smile. "You've got a few hundred soldiers counting on you, Professor… Sleep'll keep that quick mind of yours up to task."

She scoffed, but he knew her eyes had fallen closed. "I'm always on task."

His other hand lay across her waist, finger spread across the dip of her ribs and the flair of her hips. She was his only salvation in this world; the only person he had left from his old life that could understand what he went through now, what he wanted for his future, how much he wanted to do and couldn't. She'd been against the Kandorians a long while and when Lois went missing and they took over, without Clark there to help keep them at bay, he and Chloe were the only two who had any idea what was really happening and how to fight it. Things between them had first begun out of convenience; there was so much stress, so many worries and fears, and sometimes they just needed to release it, to share it all with someone they could trust. But as they days grew longer, the nights shorter, and the sun continued to shine its red glow of defeat, the two of them grew closer. Sex became holding each other, relying on one another, sharing secrets and concerns and dreams for a time when they wouldn't have to fear the unbearable hatred of the alien race that tried so hard to rule over them all. And somewhere in between saving lives and losing soldiers, between fighting and trying desperately not to lose hope, they fell in love. It was hard; for something so fragile to bloom between them when they had to keep a strong façade up for the others, when they had to kill alien dictators and bury the bodies of their fellow man. But they kept the hope; that one day the world would live again, properly; that one day he and Chloe could be happy together, _free_ together.

"If I have to sleep…" she murmured tiredly, "so do you…" One of her fingers poked his chest and he chuckled lightly. If the men of their team could see her now, they'd be confused. Chloe Sullivan was hard, even cold, and she could lead the harshest of men into battle; but late at night, with only Oliver there to see, she was sweet and soft and as loving as he'd ever known a person _could_ be. She was real with him, never hiding her true feelings about what was happening all around, what they were losing and might never get back. She was just a woman and he was just a man and together, with the fatigues tossed away, they were humans with hearts that beat loud and strong, together.

"One of us has to be awake for when the sun rises," he replied, dragging his blunt nails down the back of her arm, half-smirking when she shivered in response. He could point out every spot on her entire body that would make her respond and he knew exactly what would happen with every touch. He knew her feet and ribs were ticklish, the backs of her thighs were sensitive, the hollow of her throat was her favorite place to be kissed, and she liked his teeth against the hammering pulse at her wrist or her neck. He could play her like a priceless instrument and have her screaming high and loud for all to hear, not caring in the least that she might draw the attention of their enemy; wanting only _more_ , wanting all that he could give.

"We'll feel it," she said, her hand sliding around his shoulder, squeezing. "We always do."

He could feel her heart slowing, beating lightly against his ribs; he closed his eyes and listened to it for awhile, found his breathing imitated it.

It was dangerous; letting their guard down for any amount of time. It was worth it, though. He'd rather die having a moment with her; holding her, feeling her, being just _them_ for awhile. Truth was, he was sure that one day they would die in the field; the soldiers they'd become. He hoped it was together because without her, he didn't imagine he'd keep the team together well. He would be a wreck, a disaster, and he'd run them all into the ground. His arms tightened around her; losing Chloe was not an option. If he had to, he would take on the whole of the Kandorian army with no more than his bow and arrows and he'd die along beside her; just knowing he'd made one last stand, that he would be with her in the end, was enough.

"We're okay…" she whispered knowingly, fingers stroking. "For tonight, at least." She looked up at him, her eyes at half-mass, sleep tugging at the corners. Reaching for his face, she stroked the planes softly, delicately, as if he were something to be marveled over.

He stared at her a long moment, at the green eyes that spoke of trust and affection and _hope_. Leaning down, he caught her mouth; her lips smooth and warm against his. He buried his fingers in her hair, tightened, held on, and let himself be whisked away. The wind blew warm through the window, rustling messy blonde curls and sweeping across naked skin and tangled bodies. The red sun lit up her pale skin, highlighted her; the curve of her back, the swell of her full breasts, the flair of her round hips. Thick panting breaths escaped between slanting mouths and reaching tongues; hands reached and squeezed and spread down arms and chests. Finally, they drew apart, their foreheads still bent together. She looked up at him, her mouth wet and swollen. "You expect me to _sleep_ after that?"

He grinned lightly, reached up and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Your fault."

Her nose wrinkled. "I dare you to tell me _how_ …"

"Well if you _dare_ …" He chuckled. His face sobered slowly, warm eyes staring down at her sweet, upturned face. "You're beautiful… And the idea of ever losing you—"

She covered his mouth with her hand and he was glad for it, because he could feel the swell of emotion that build in his throat, ready to choke his words. "You won't." She stared at him searchingly. "Just like I'll never lose you." Her brows quirk with the kind of finality he loved in her; as if just saying it meant it was true. And he wanted to believe her; he wanted to think that they would all survive this, somehow. But deep down he knew it wouldn't be so. Perhaps the world would right itself one day, a hero bigger and stronger than them would rise up and save them all, but he didn't think they'd be there to see it through.

"Right?"

"Right." He made sure his voice was strong, certain, because she needed to hear it as much as he needed to believe it.

They would not survive but they would fight until the bitter end. And until then, they would have each other and these nights; they would have the bell tower and the warm wind caressing them as they lay tangled, enjoying the last bit of normal they had; one another. She hugged him close, her head light against his chest, and he wrapped her up in his arms, listening once more to the beat of her heart, faster now, a harder staccato than the once peaceful pace. She was afraid, scared, because she knew the truth of it. Chloe and Oliver were not meant to survive this war, only keep it going, keep the fight and resistance alive, until one day it would be their time to lay down arms and finally rest… _together_.


	120. Farewell Future, Hello Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _Would you sacrifice your sanity to save the archer?"_ Undoubtedly, yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Spoiler(s)** : 10x1 - Lazarus
> 
>  **Music** : Appalachian Springs - Verve ([lyrics](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/verve/appalachiansprings.html) | [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHSZkghsMPM))

The Helmet of Fate was aptly named. Chloe Sullivan had little time to consider her own, regardless of the fact that when she put it on she could see the devastation her actions would bring to the man she struggled to save. She knew well that to do what she was planning would likely mean her own demise; or at the very least, entirely too many physical and mental scars to add to the already critical list she owned. There was nobody to talk her out of it; she knew this because she told nobody of her plan. The sudden resurrection of Clark could have meant back-up; it could've meant a lot of things. What she knew for sure was that he had enough on his plate already and adding the disappearance of Oliver on top would only send it overflowing.

She went to the helmet for two reasons. She didn't want to bother with convincing anybody just how important it was that Oliver be saved; she didn't want to hear Clark's laundry list of reasons why it might be better to cut their losses before this became another of their many wars on-going. And secondly, because when her heart pounded loud in her ears and her eyes clouded with tears, she could hear him saying those three words, over and over. _I love you_. God, it was never supposed to be this way and yet it was.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat, shattering on a sob. Chloe Sullivan stepped out of her overworked self to find a little fun and instead she found love; she found Oliver Queen. And just when she was beginning to think that maybe, just _maybe_ , life was going to let her have this one bit of reprieve, he was taken. He was taken from her and from the world that needed him so. As Clark ran off to save Cadmus labs, Chloe stalked through the Justice Society's all too hollow halls; she approached the glass cabinet that safely ensconced the golden hat, beckoning and warning her in the same dark, sanity-crossing voices. There was time to back away, to find another way, but her feet didn't falter, her resolve didn't sway.

Even as Clark told her not to, she knew she had to.

_Would you sacrifice your sanity to save the archer?_

Undoubtedly, yes.

Falling unconscious was almost welcome. The turmoil that had been eating at her since Oliver was taken was like a virus that twisted and turned her insides, her eyes stinging without fail. It hit her like a ton of bricks that the first person she wanted to turn to, to help her, was the same man she was trying to get back. Chloe was no idiot; she knew the tell-tale signs as she and Oliver grew closer, leaping far past that of a stringless relationship. _Fun_ , she scoffed. What followed may have had its fun, but in its wake was something much deeper, much more than she'd ever imagined.

The whispers of the helmet echoed in her mind; the scenes played out with gross clarity. Was fate a one-way street or were their avenues she could take? If she went left would Oliver die in that dark room, tied up and blinded, at the mercy of his unknown assailants out to strip him of the heroism he'd so earned? Or was it always her fate to intervene, to step up and take his place? She couldn't see her own fate; only what her actions would result in for Oliver. And when she saw him, safely if not a little harshly, dispensed in front of the Queen tower, she breathed a sigh of mental relief. The only option she was willing to take was the one that resulted in his safe return; maybe he'd be scarred and the fire of revenge would burn quick, but he wouldn't be down there anymore. He wouldn't be breathing in that dank air; a cold sweat forming across his bare skin, the metallic scent of his own blood the only thing he inhaled.

_What was love if not sacrificial?_

Even unconscious, she felt the urge to wince. Oliver would disagree. In fact, she could see him vehemently arguing that she leave him alone, that she find some other way; a way that didn't involve her taking his place. But time was running out; resources were low. She had only the picture of his kidnapper's face and the helmet to tell her she had to hurry, had to interrupt this so-called interrogation that would only end with one more man she loved dead and buried. And with the way things looked, it would seem he never got the chance to tell her how wrong she was to do what she did. There would be no moment where he tried to shake sense into her, silently thankful that in the end it all turned out well.

Instead, she would take his place in every way. The final downfall of one Chloe Sullivan would be what had always plagued her. Love.

And where would she go when it was over? After all she'd learned and all she'd done was there some fabled heaven that would make up for all she'd had to put up with? Would some higher being commend her on her selfless act of trading herself for the one man who got her? All her life, it was all she'd ever wanted and here she was sacrificing what she'd finally found. But what was it worth if he died, keeping the secrets he'd so closely guarded, laying down his life for the rest of the League, _for her?_ He would fight until the end, trading snarky jabs through bloody, cracked lips and only encouraging their blows instead of admitting the truth of it. Admitting anything of the League, of Watchtower, would have them knocking at her firewall and she might have held them off for awhile but eventually they would infiltrate and they would destroy what she and Oliver were putting back together.

Perhaps there was more to her sacrifice than just Oliver; she needed him to continue their legacy. She needed him to watch out for the team, to keep it going. And what was she in the grand scheme? They could find another computer whiz; he could find another woman to ease his broken heart. But there would be no one and nothing that could take his place; not in the league or in her heart. She'd had enough; she'd seen the end of the road long before the helmet had laid it out for her and she knew that if there had been no interruptions, she would've ended up Chloe Queen; happy, for once. The wife of a man who sported green leather and saved the world. He was no naïve and sweet Clark Kent, but a charming man who'd struck an arrow center in her chest and reeled her in for good.

She sent Clark off to Cadmus labs knowing her own destination, her own fateful path.

Ever the computer magician, she wielded its awesome ones and zeroes and found the not-so-secretive man that should've learned a few things about masks when he thought to take Oliver and sneer his vow into the camera lens of Green Arrow's glasses. Tracking him down was easy, it was convincing him she knew more, could be of more importance that was difficult. They had Green Arrow in their grasp, what did they need with her?

"He's a billionaire that can toss his money around for gadgets, but he's not the one putting them together… You've got the brawn, well I'm the brain, so let's play a game of Trade and we'll see if you don't get more than what you've got…"

It was true in some sense; she was the brain behind the whole thing. But he was more than the money or the muscle; he was who came up with it all, he was the one who encouraged the others to see what good they could do. Oliver was the heart of the League and she was the woman who watched over them, found out what needed to be found, ran intelligence for every mission and knew what was coming before it got in the way. She was the file-folder they needed and while they might think she was easier to break than the brawny mouthpiece already in their position, they'd be sorely tested to find otherwise.

In the end, she got what she wanted.

She walked submissively into the dark van that pulled up in front of a corner coffee shop she frequented. Meeting in front of Watchtower was a no-go; she would give them as little as possible from the get-go. She didn't fight as her hands were bound, her face covered in a black bag. How cliché, she thought though. The military-style men that took up space on either side of her, keeping her stuck between their hulking shoulders as they drove across smooth highway before turning off into bumpy country road didn't say much and she didn't want to speak for fear she might cry.

She accepted that what life she had left in front of her would be one of solitude; not the kind she'd once cherished but the kind with little human interaction. Save for any interrogation for information she would be alone; without the joys of friendship, secluded and bereft of the laughter she'd only recently been able to enjoy again. The van drove on, silent, a sign of what was to come. Would she be in the same unforgiving chair Oliver had suffered in? Would her snark fail her as the days grew long and endless? Would her mind break down until she was as empty and unseeing as her mother?

They came to a jerky stop, the van pulsing forward and forcing her into the henchman at her left. She was brought out of the van with little fanfare. A hand on either arm, she was forced forward into the biting wind that rattled the fabric bag around her head. Night had dawned thick; the only light coming through from the headlights on either van, spreading through the center between point A and B. She couldn't see, could only react as they shoved her forward. And so she walked; didn't bother to struggle despite how her fight or flight reaction kicked into overdrive. All her life she'd gotten into these situations, only she was the one who needed saving. And she'd gotten out; through her own endless resolve or that of the heroes on her speed dial. And now she walked, head bowed, the knowledge of her giving up weighing heavy on her shoulders.

The walk seemed endless; the destination too close and too far. Was Oliver here? She wondered. Had he any idea what was happening?

And then her questions were answered; a shove, body meeting body. She was nearly thrown off her feet as the passerby kept going, taking a step to the left as she pivoted right, just as sightless as her. And she knew, deep down she knew… There was no mistaking that body; she'd spent enough days and nights doing no more than learning every inch with the pads of her fingers and her diligent mouth. He'd walked right by her; the last touch they would ever share was her shoulder hitting his bound arm. She stumbled; her heart swelling heavy in her chest, her eyes filling quickly. He couldn't know and she couldn't let him. So much of her wanted to cry out; to alert him or warn him or something, but she knew… She knew he would only fight. Even as he was broken and subdued, so past tired he was just desperate for rest. He would fight with his arms bound behind him and his eyes shrouded in the bag. He wouldn't let her do this.

So she bit her lip and she kept her silence, even as she was shoved into the van and she knew it was over; there was no going back.

She sat back and accepted it as the bag was drawn off; she stared at the cruelly smiling man she'd tracked down and made her deal with. In his dark eyes, she saw herself; she saw the devil as he took her soul. She saw the way her mouth trembled and her eyes bloomed with tears; acceptance. It wasn't quite right; it wasn't the woman he would have had to answer to under different circumstances. If she hadn't been bound, expecting to be his prisoner, she would've sneered, snarked the smugness right of his face. Instead, she accepted that in the van across from them sat a confused Oliver Queen, wondering what brought this on, possibly playing out the scenario in his mind for answers to questions she didn't want him asking.

The van backed up with her stuck there, blinking hard against her tears. The man who'd stolen Oliver and was now willing to take her instead nodded, sitting back in his seat as if he'd won. She wanted to smile, watery as it might be, wanted to tell him that he may have her, but he'd just let the most important one walk away. The leader of their League was being driven away, brought back to reality, where he could find a way to battle this new threat. It was a wonder they believed her; as if she'd ever give them what they truly wanted, as if she'd ever come over to their side, see their line of thinking.

She watched after the bouncing headlights of the opposite van as it drifted off into the distance; she felt her chest cave in and her tears spill down her cheeks. Some hopeful inner-voice cried out, "He'll save us… He _will_ …" and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes to it. Would she dream of the day he'd come for her or accept the nightmare that came? Leaning her head back, body slumping in defeat, she let her mind get whisked away, slipping in and out of reality.

The Helmet of Fate drew Oliver's life out for him, but there _were_ paths. Which one she hoped for, she couldn't say. If he saved her, she wouldn't be the same, the situation between them wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be tomorrow or the day after and time would wear on her, break her down. Not a word would escape her lips; nothing that would ruin her team. But they would keep trying, keep pushing, and they knew who Oliver was, ruining him would be an easy feat. How long could they dangle his duo-identity over him before they acted? She would keep their attention; keep them distracted while he figured out a way to fix this. Maybe she wouldn't survive it, but he would. He and the team would go on to save the world, in whatever way they had to. And she would be the willing sacrifice that let them do just that.

Willing. She laughed darkly. The helmet got it wrong. It wasn't her sanity she was sacrificing, but her heart, her future. Lord, she thought… The future she'd once sought was lost now; what lay in front of her was wrong, _she_ was wrong _,_ and she didn't know where she was going but it wasn't anywhere she'd hoped. It was farewell to the future of Chloe Queen and hello to the hell that awaited her.


	121. Masochists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping. They'd only meant to go shopping! And then… "We're going to kick bad guy ass, aren't we?"

 

Shopping. They'd only meant to go shopping!

An average day, really. Well, actually, for them it would've been considered unnatural, seeing as they hardly ever got to do anything like walk through a busy mall on a weekend and browse for random household things. New furniture, more precisely. Moving from the Metropolis high-rise apartment in Queen Towers to Oliver's childhood home, Queen Manor, in Star City was going to take a _lot_ of redecorating. Which was why they'd dedicated their Saturday and Sunday to finding something that would appeal to both of them. Oliver hadn't lived in the manor since he was old enough to strike out on his own and had left Excelsior behind. Too many memories, he'd said. But after Chloe had said yes to his surprise proposal, they'd agreed that moving into a _home_ would make sense and seeing as he already had one there was no need to go house-hunting. Bad memories could be replaced with good, she'd hoped. And really, the house itself represented a very loving family that had once been there. Just because his parents had died didn't mean the time he'd had _with_ them was any less cherished. There were plenty of bedrooms for guests (coughLoiscough) and for the future Queen children, of which they'd talked about at length.

Chloe could admit that becoming a mother hadn't exactly been on her priority list. She'd had a whole world to keep an eye on and a team of rough-around-the-edges heroes that needed more attention than one woman could probably provide. But provide she did. And if she were being honest, she'd admit that when she was ready to have kids there was nobody else she would want them with than Oliver. Three years later and some days she couldn't believe they'd gotten this far. She couldn't believe that they fit as well as they did. He boastfully told her, often, that _he_ knew. He'd known long before her. But he had bided his time until the right situation had presented itself. She could almost thank Stephen Swift in his jailbait lunacy for getting her to the point where Oliver would seize his opening.

Regardless of how it came to be -which wasn't quite the most romantic story one might tell- they were happy now. And engaged. Something she honestly hadn't seen herself being again; not after the disaster that was her and Jimmy and the add-in of Davis. But Oliver had brought her to her favorite coffee shop, left her at their usual table, and went to get them their drinks. It had to be the largest cup of coffee latte she'd ever seen in her life. She later learned he'd bought it especially for the event and in green, of course. And had the barista spell out _Marry me?_ in steamed milk. How was she supposed to say no to that? Shocked, she'd stared at him, eyes wide, mouth ajar, and he'd grinned, so self-assured, knelt on one knee and held out a ring.

And that was how she became engaged to Oliver Queen.

That was what brought them to the Star City Mall on a bright Saturday morning with too many ideas to put into order. Couches, armchairs, tables, art work, electronics, beds, linens, _everything_ under the sun. They had to get it all.

"Remind me again what _exactly_ is wrong with a decorator?" he wondered, already tired after three hours of shopping.

"Too impersonal," she dismissed, chewing her lip as she wondered over the color for the couch. Beige was acceptable, if not boring. Red was too bright and would stand out too much unless they filled the room with all bright furniture. She knew Oliver was leaning toward green, as usual. White… She could already imagine Bart spilling spaghetti sauce on it. What he was doing in her living room with a bowl of spaghetti sauce, she didn't know. It was Bart and if her head concocted it, it would probably happen. They had a nice chocolate brown… Hmm…

"Impersonal? My last three apartments were done by decorators. And I happen to think they looked great."

She cocked a brow and glanced up at him. "They were modern and impersonal." She blinked. "Do you want to sit on a kidney shaped couch or do you want to lounge on something you can actually relax on, _comfortably?_ "

He frowned, sighing as he was beat once again by her logic. "Just for your information, I happen to think the shape of a kidney could be very relaxing _._ "

"Fine, we'll get you your own couch, Oliver, and you can sit on your kidney-shaped couch while _I_ sit on my _normal_ couch."

Hugging an arm around her shoulders, he grinned. "Are you getting grumpy, 'Tower?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm getting irritated. And I'm starting to think this store is out to get me!"

He chuckled, looking around. "I see what you mean. These people are _pretty_ suspicious looking." He nodded toward the older gentlemen three couches and an armchair over… currently picking a wedgie out. "And _her_ … I think she might've planted some sort of bomb in the fake fichus." The _terrorist_ he was speaking of was eighty years old and riding a scooter in between furniture with a sour expression each time she had to stop and use her cane to try and move things out of her way. Bomber she was not.

"Okay, okay… I'm a little hungry."

He smiled lopsidedly. "I told you to eat breakfast."

"I didn't think we'd be here that long!" she sighed, shoulders slumping.

"We have all of tomorrow, too. And at least three more furniture stores to look through. Or we can take a long lunch and tackle this after a big plate of moo shu pork…" he suggested hopefully.

She laughed. "Fine… We get lunch and then we come back." She paused, nodding at her current selection. "I like this couch."

"In green?"

"Brown."

"Spoilsport."

"Yes, how ever will you manage a marriage with me?" she wondered in faux-sadness.

"I'll survive," he assured, tilting his head to kiss her temple. "I call dibs on painting the living room though."

"Ollie! We are not painting it green!"

He only smirked.

They were half way to the food court when they heard the shots. On instinct, Oliver grabbed her close and covered her with his body as they knelt low to the floor, eyes scanning to see who was shooting and where from. The echo said it wasn't on the same level as them, maybe one down on the main floor. An alarm rang out and people began scattering. Immediately, Chloe started running through scenarios. Was this a random shooting; somebody angry at the world out to hurt people, anyone who happened to get in their way? Or was there a purpose? A plan of attack with an exit strategy.

"Mall index," Chloe told Oliver, standing and searching it out.

Brows furrowed, he frowned at the chaos around them. People weren't waiting for any cues to tell them what to do; it was every person for themselves. Locking their hands together, they rushed toward the computerized booth indexed with every store and what level they resided on. Chloe was only three stores in before she realized. "The bank," she murmured, and then had to repeat it louder as the screaming was drowning her voice out. "The bank! With all these people and so many exits, they'll have enough time to get in, get out and the police won't even know who to stop."

He nodded, seeing her thought process. "And if they get into trouble, they're not low on hostage selection…"

"So what do we do?" she wondered, chewing her lip.

Oliver looked around, face stoic and unreadable. There were mothers grabbing children, teenage girls crying, hysteria and fear in faces all over. She witnessed his hero persona as it came forward and couldn't hide a grin of knowing. Despite the chaos surrounding them, she thought Oliver was in his element.

"We're going to kick bad guy ass, aren't we?"

He smirked. "They have a sports outlet just around the corner," he told her, pointing. "We can stock up on protective gear. There's a gun and ammo store on the floor below. We'll have to move quick but if we can get to it in time, we might just have a good chance."

" _Might_ ," she repeated lightly. "Those sound like our kind of odds."

"You ready for this?" he wondered, looking at her in concern. "Say the word and we'll leave this with the local police."

"And miss out on all the fun?" She shook her head. "Besides… No offense to the SCPD but… We're so much better at this than they are."

He laughed. "That's my girl."

Forty-three minutes later, Oliver Queen and his fiancé walked out of the Star Mall knowing that when the police rushed in from the other side, guns at the ready, the only thing they'd find were six perps, tied up and without the riches of their long sought after heist. Blood dripping from a few (hopefully) non-fatal wounds, a white bandage tied at Oliver's upper left bicep, and a through-and-through still bleeding down her stomach, they walked with their arms tight around each other, glancing over at the crowd, whose eyes were on a different door with bated breath.

Despite the twinge in her ribs every time she walked, Chloe smiled. Oliver's arm lay heavy around her shoulder, his pulse still hammering beneath her thumb as she wrapped her hand around his wrist and forearm. His fingers drummed, stroking, along her forearm; content, happy even. "You're a masochist, I think," she told him.

He grinned over at her. "You _laughed_ when they shot you."

Eyes wide and brows spiking, she argued, "I still say that was hysterical."

He chuckled. "We're not normal."

She pursed her lips to keep from smiling; was it weird she kind of liked that? While Suzy Homemaker was making a run for the exit, she and Oliver were trying to stop the bad guy and save a few lives. How could she regret not being normal if in the end there was this swell of satisfaction that built inside? All the years before Oliver, she'd seen Clark as the hero and herself as the information fountain; the woman who directed him to the fire. Like a call-in station for heroes. But _with_ Oliver, she felt as though she had more purpose; like she wasn't meant to be on the outside looking in, but that she was owed her own heroic plateau and he was more than willing to share his.

"You think they'll track us down, ask any questions?" Oliver wondered, staring at the crowds of shocked and interested people, at the cops and the SWAT teams that stood at the ready.

"Little hard to… I disable the cameras, destroyed any footage with our faces on it, and the perps didn't see us thanks to our nifty masks," she told him, proudly. Said masks were tossed away in a garbage can, far away from the original crime scene. No doubt they would all wonder who had taken them out and this time there could be no praise for leather-toting vigilantes as they'd been dressed down and out for a day of Chloe and Oliver rather than Green Arrow and Watchtower. Not that she was complaining; she preferred to stay anonymous. And as long as spectators kept their eyes ahead, they wouldn't see the real humans slinking away on the right.

"How's your arm?" she wondered, peering over at him.

"On fire," he muttered, trying and failing to stifle a grimace.

"We'll have Emil check it out as soon as we get home," she assured, squeezing his waist.

He frowned suddenly.

"What?"

"Does this mean we still have to come back here tomorrow? I'm really starting to miss my decorator …"

She scoffed. "Baby." Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "We'll just try smaller shops tomorrow."

"What's wrong with ordering online?" he wondered, shoulders slumping. "You like computers, they like you, pick something you like and voila!"

She blinked at him. "Just for that, I'm going to actually _listen_ to Emil when he says we should take it easy and not engage in any _physical activities_ for awhile."

Dramatically horrified, Oliver shook his head. "You're a cruel, cruel woman Chloe Sullivan."

She smirked. "And we're not painting the walls green."

He drew a hand up to his chest in a wounded gesture. "I've been shot, I'm bleeding, and I didn't even get to make any snappy comments at the bad guys and now you're ruining what little hope I had left!" He stared at her. "Unless you wanted to rethink that whole withholding physical fun thing…" He nodded, smile tugging at his lips, "I could be convinced to forgive the other injustices, if I was at least allowed to celebrate our victory _properly_."

Laughing under her breath, she shook her head. "Just how much fun could we have if we're both trying not to touch where the other's been shot or wounded?"

"That's half the fun; you never know!"

"Like I said… you're a masochist."

Leaning over, Oliver pressed a lingering kiss to her temple. "Only for you."

Deciding to be flattered, Chloe leaned into his good side, letting her head fall to his shoulder. "Hey… where'd you park the car?"

He came to a sudden stop and together they turned to look at where the crowd was still standing, pointing, watching in awe as the police brought out _their_ victoriously caught bad guys. "Somewhere in the middle of all _that_ …" he mused, frowning.

"Huh…" She blinked. "Cab or town car?"

"Town car… less questions."

Nodding, she dug his cell phone out of his back pocket and hit the speed dial. Smiling, she said, "Hey Jackson, could you pick us up outside of Star Mall?" There was a pause and then, "Yeah, bring the car with the _tinted_ windows… and maybe some iodine and bandages…"

Oliver winced.

Seeing him, she snorted. "Baby."

"You wait until we're pouring it on _your_ wounds, Professor. _Then_ we'll see who the baby is!" he grumbled.

"Yeah, actually can you pick us up from the back?" she replied into the phone. "Yes, we'll be going to Emil's office." Snorting, she rolled her eyes. "No, no I _don't_ know if his assistant is available. Why don't you just ask her out to lunch?" Shaking her head, she added, "No, _after_ you drop us off back at the house you can go for your lunch break… I'm sure she can find something to occupy her in the meantime…"

Oliver stifled a laugh.

"Are you on your way yet?" She sighed and then looked down at herself. "No, I don't think we'll need towels for the seats… And if we do and I'm wrong and there's somehow damage, I'm sure we could just reupholster it, okay?" Raising a hand, she massaged her temples. "You ever work for the Inquisitor, Jackson? You have a knack for asking a lot of questions… No, I'm not angry; I'm in need of a ride home… Okay, yes… Ten minutes." With a snap, she closed the phone and tucked it back into his pants. "Why did we hire him again?"

"You felt sorry for him… He reminded you of both Lois and Bart on a high sugar diet and no off button."

Her brows furrowed. "I must've been missing Lois that day…" she mused.

He snorted. "He's on his way?"

"Yeah… Ten minutes." Sighing, she looking up at him. "Think we can stay out of the limelight that long?"

"As long as we get rid of all this extra gear, I think we should be okay."

Her eyes narrowed playfully. "Trying to get me undressed already?"

His lips curled with a smirk. "Is it working?"

"A little exhibitionist but we'll see," she offered with a light shrug.

Chuckling, he moved in front of her and reached out to unlock the gun belt at her hips. As it dropped to the grass below, his fingers spread out, probing carefully at the bullet wound that still seeped beneath her protective gear. He dragged his knuckles along her skin slowly, gently. Before he could mask it, his expression turning dark and worried. "You're sure you're okay?" he asked, jaw twitching.

Reaching up, Chloe slid her hand up the sides of his neck before cupping his face. "No worse than you."

His brow cocked. "I _did_ mention my arm felt like it was on _fire_ , right?"

"I'm starting to think you have a low pain threshold… Not exactly good for a hero." Chewing her lip, she nodded. "We might just have to relegate you to a desk job."

He scoffed. "Blasphemy."

Arms sliding around her waist, he unstrapped the gun that hung from her shoulder and let it too drop away, unnoticed. There were only the hard, unforgiving plates of her chest armor then, which met with his own as he drew her closer. Dropping his head until their foreheads touched, noses bumping, he met her eyes. "Y'know… Just about anybody else in the same situation as you would've sprinted to the exit…" His mouth drew up lightly at the corners; limitless appreciation evident. "How'd I get so lucky that I found someone who'd always watch my back?"

Biting her lip, she stared up at him with the same affection reflected in her eyes. "Maybe I'm a bit of a masochist, too," she murmured.

He grinned. "Good. I can't see how that could _possibly_ go wrong."

She laughed.

A honk sounded behind them and they turned to see Jackson in their town car.

"That was definitely _not_ ten minutes," she muttered.

Oliver smirked. "Quicker he picks us up, quicker he can hit on Emil's assistant." Arms wrapped around her, he drew her toward the backdoor of the car and helped her inside. He had Jackson gather up the guns and stuff them in the trunk; they couldn't leave them lying around for just anybody to find. And together, arms wrapped around each other, heads tucked together, Chloe and Oliver drove off toward their personal doctor, discussing wall paper versus paint and the merits of light versus dark furniture.

"Okay, just picture in your head for a second," she told him. "One white couch, one bowl of spaghetti and one Bart Allen."

He winced. "Right… Dark furniture it is."

She grinned up at him triumphantly.

He looked down at her, a gleam in his eyes. "Forest green is dark."

With a groan, she rolled her eyes.

He laughed.

Ah, normalcy. What it was to others was not the same as it was to them. He wouldn't change a thing.


	122. Phantom of the Watchtower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wishes she still had her healing ability because she wants nothing more than to take this hurt from him…

She's scared. She's never seen him this broken and she doesn't know how she's supposed to make it better. One minute everything was fine; everything was as it was meant to be. Dinner. They were going to have dinner. She called to let him know she was coming but when she gets there, he's a mess. The previously made-up table, with its candles and dinner plates is turned on its side. Food smudges the hardwoods, forgotten and flattened beneath tossed furniture. She's standing in the middle of it, trying not to get anything on her new heels; more because she's worried she might just take a face-dive into the previously tasty-looking casserole he'd made from her recipe.

Their apartment is a wreck; it's not just the dining room she realizes. He's destroyed everything, from the floor to the ceiling. And he's sitting in the middle of it, back against the wall, knees drawn up, face hung between them.

Four years they've been together, seven they've known each other, and she's never seen him this destroyed. She'd seen him drink himself into a stupor, throw away the duo-identity and trade it in for the sloshed and distant billionaire façade. But his knuckles are bruised, bleeding, and his skin is mottled as if in rage and pain. His shoulders are shaking but there are no tears, no anguished sobs. Gone is the man she knew; the man who faced anything that came his way and fixed it, whatever it might take.

She kneels next to him, turns her head in question. "Ollie?" She waits but gets no answer. "Oliver, what's wrong?"

Helpless. She feels like there's nothing she can do. He won't answer, won't even raise his head to look at her. She touches his hair, rubs down his neck soothingly but gets no reaction. Her eyes blur with tears, now she's really worried. What could've happened? Was it the team? Was one of them hurt? _Dead?_ She hyperventilates, her chest aching; was it Bart? Victor? AC? Dinah? _All_ of them? She tries to remember where each of them were; what they were doing. Was it a mission gone wrong? Was it a fatal error or a planned attack?

He sighs, takes in a heavy, shaky breath and rubs his face. And then he's standing and she rises with him. He won't look at her though; won't acknowledge that she's even there.

"Look, I can't help you if I don't know what's going on… I'm good, but I can't read minds."

Not even a smile. He walks across the room, kicks debris out from beneath his feet and doesn't even seem to care.

"Love what you did with the place," she mutters, frowning. "Very feng shui. The _chi_ is amazing!"

She feels bad for her snark when he pinches the bridge of his nose, pauses at her desk and just stands there, shoulders hunched. She hurries to him then, wraps her arms around his waist and lays her head against his back. "Whatever it is… I _got_ you, all right?" It's all she can do; all she can say. She wishes there was more; she wishes she still had her healing ability because she wants nothing more than to take this hurt from him.

His hand presses to his chest, as if his heart _aches_ and she slides her own up to cover his.

She can't stand the silence; she wishes he would talk or yell or _anything_. In the four years of their relationship, he's never been called _quiet_. Even in the dead of night, sleeping, he snored loud enough to wake her sometimes. Often, she fell asleep to his voice; whether he was arguing on the phone to some business associate halfway across the country or sharing details on the latest mission with her and she was just too tired to stay up. His voice was calming; it could get her through just about anything. She woke to his sleep-roughened voice teasing her, she softened to his gently murmured words, she strengthened to his speeches.

She wants to force him to sit down, to spill what it is that's got him so hurt. But then he's turning away, sitting on the bench just beneath the steel staircase, elbows on his knees, eyes surveying the mess before him. His expression is solemn then, as if he's shutting down, going inside himself.

"No," she argues, wrapping her arm around his shoulder as she sits down next to him, squeezing wanting to shake him. "Talk to me… Just… Just don't do this to yourself… _Please_ …" She's not sure he can handle another fall from grace and she knows where this is leading; the drinking, the gambling, the loss of self. She can't and won't let that happen to him; not again. He's too good for that, he doesn't deserve that. "Whatever it is… we can work it out. We can fix this…" She stares at him, sees no change in his expression; only the desperate loss in his eyes that sheen, tears at bay, locked away. "Come on, Ollie… Aren't you the one who said love will save us all? Hm?" She stares searchingly, feeling her own heart break a little. "Fine… Be that way… I'll love you enough for both of us and when this is done and over with, you can thank me a second time for saving your leathered butt." Not even a crack of a smile and her shoulders slump, a sigh escaping her. "Ollie?" she whispers.

"You promised," he murmurs, his voice hoarse, shattered.

Her brow furrows.

And then, like a hammer to the solar-plexus, she remembers.

She was driving; she just got off the phone with him. " _Dinner is ready, Sidekick, and your seat is empty_."

She laughed. " _I'm on my way, Romeo. Keep my seat open, huh?"_

" _As if anybody else could ever replace you_."

She smirked. " _Keep that in mind. You ever get out of line and you'll remember why it is we're stuck it out this long._ "

" _Besides the mind-blowing sex and heroics on the side?_ " he joked.

" _Mm, those are some pretty big factors into us, aren't they? You better buy stock in Viagra when old age comes knocking._ "

He laughed. " _With you around, I won't need it._ "

Grinning, she rolled her eyes. " _Okay, I'll be home in a half-hour, tops._ "

 _"I'm holding you to that… If you're late, there_ will _be repercussions…_ "

She bit her lip at the promising heat of his words. " _Looking forward to it_."

" _I'm watching the clock… Hurry up_."

" _Yeah, yeah. I love you and I'll see you soon_."

" _Love you, too. Bye_."

" _Bye._ "

It wasn't five minutes later when she saw the headlights; when a car swerved too late, hit her so hard it jarred her bones. And then it was a red haze, a blur of lights and voices and fading heartbeats. She remembers staring at the roof of the ambulance, thinking of him, at home, waiting for her. The casserole would be going cold and he'd be getting anxious; maybe even pacing. He would call… As if he'd heard her, her cell phone rang shrilly in the background, ignored by paramedics. A man was hovering over her, trying to talk to her.

" _I promised_ ," she coughed, shaking her head and trying to breathe.

But it was pointless, there was no use. The light faded, the heartbeat stopped, the voices were gone and so was she.

And then she was here, in her home, seeing it in disarray as her husband, the love of her life, sat in a broken fragment of himself.

"You promised…" He swallows tightly. "You promised you wouldn't leave me…"

Chloe's heart skips a beat, aches in her ghostly chest. "I haven't…" she tells him, wishing desperately he could hear her. With tears glittering in her eyes, she lays her chin on his shoulder, stares at him and whispers, "I _won't_." It's all she can do, all she can offer, and she wishes it was enough, all the while knowing that she may be dead but her heart is alive and breaking, along with the man who revived it. She supposes spending an afterlife with him will have to do; even if he doesn't know she's there, she'll still be doing her duty. Chloe Queen, Phantom of the Watchtower, keeps her promises even after death.


	123. Christmas Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From busy malls to mistletoe, Oliver might just get his Christmas miracle…

Oliver observed the bustling mall with a furrowed brow, lips pursed. Eyes darting to the right, he stared earnestly down at the blonde by his side. "Don't I have an assistant for this sort of thing?" he wondered hopefully.

Chloe scoffed. "You have an assistant to pick out gifts for business acquaintances, not your closest friends…"

"Okay…" His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Don't I have a close, personal friend I could trust my platinum card to?" He stared at her beseechingly.

She raised a brow. "I'll help, but I won't do it _for_ you."

He shrugged. "I gave it my best… But just a forewarning, I'm not a much of a shopper."

She smiled. "Said the billionaire."

"Personal shoppers, Chloe… They're godsends."

She rolled her eyes, hooking her arm with his. "Big breath, Oliver, we're going in."

Eyes darting to and fro at the many people running from store to store in a frenzy, he wondered if maybe chasing down bad guys with guns wasn't easier.

Seeing his expression, she shook her head, amused. "You have a list, right? This'll be easier when we just jump in and get to it. Standing around gawking at the rest of the shoppers isn't going to bolster your confidence any…"

He frowned. "Are you suggesting I'm being cowardly? Because they reported a mob trampling last week at this very mall!" His brows rose for emphasis.

"Okay…" she drawled slowly. "You run around in green leather at night and fight crime… You can't face one small shopping spree?"

He pursed his lips, eyeing the others as if they were the enemy. "We get in, we get out, and next year I start my shopping a month early."

She smiled. "Right… Make it a new year's resolution." Tugging him forward, she took out the list of gifts and perused them. "Okay, Bart first…" She scoffed, glancing up at him. "I don't care how many times Bart asks for a Ducati, it's not happening! Not even if he puts _Streetfighter Edition_ next to it… As if that's a _selling_ point!"

"He purposefully writes next to it that he's asking Santa," Oliver reminded, eyeing the list. "Didn't know Kringle built those in his little toy shop."

"He doesn't… And neither does Oliver Queen," she told him purposefully.

He held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, no death-defying super-bikes… I'll just get him a Red Ryder BB gun and be done with it."

She grinned. "He'll shoot his eye out."

"Football then," he decided, sighing faux-mournfully.

"Sure, and I'll be sure to pick you up a nice classy leg-shaped lamp while we're at it."

"Don't forget the fringy shade… The boys will be _so_ jealous!"

Giggling, she drew him toward a shoe store, searching out the converse sneakers. "Okay… Anything red, unique, or decidedly _Bart_ …" She tapped her mouth as she searched, pulling down box after box, holding them up for inspection and trying to imagine Bart wearing them.

"Check these out… Dr. Seuss!" He held them up for her, the bright orange color and signature stripes making her smile.

"Perfect," she decided.

He stuck them under his arm and kept looking. By the time they were done, they left with six boxes of shoes, all for their favorite speedster.

Oliver frowned down at the bags hanging from his arms. "You realize if we keep this up, I'll run out of fingers to hold all these…"

She smiled up at him. "Put those muscles to good use, Queen!"

He half-rolled his eyes, smiling nonetheless. "All right, who's next?"

"Um…" She looked down at the list, biting her lip. "AC."

"And he wants…?"

"The BP oil spill cleaned up…" She shrugged. "Somehow I don't think that'll fit in a gift box…"

He laughed under his breath. "Anything else?"

"An Xbox Kinect," she answered, smiling. "Opposite spectrums, but okay…"

"I can do that…" He nodded. "Any games?"

"He says he wants Kinect Sports, but we both know what he really wants is the dance games…" She raised a brow. "For a water-lover, he can really bust a move."

Oliver chuckled. "So we'll pick him up both… What about Victor?"

"Covered," she said proudly, beaming up at him. "He's got a deluxe package with two tickets for the Rose Bowl in Pasadena."

His brows rose. "Really?"

She nodded. "He was the star wide-receiver for Metropolis high and he's been following every game. He aspired to get on the college team, the Sharks, but…" She frowned, lifting a shoulder. "After the car accident and Lex's doctor theatrics… It wasn't gonna happen."

Oliver frowned thoughtfully. "You think he misses it?"

"I think all the boys would be happy to have a little pick-up game some time."

Smiling, he nodded. "That'll be interesting."

She grinned, imagining the many varying degrees of strength between the men she knew and tried to imagine them all playing together. She wondered if she could convince John to put down the Christmas cookies and get in the game as well.

A couple hours later, laden with gifts, Oliver and Chloe arrived back at his apartment in Queen Towers. "I really think now should be the time I put a foot down and hire somebody for the rest," he told her, carrying the bags into the living room.

"Please!" she scoffed. "A little tape and wrapping paper won't kill you, Oliver."

"You've never seen me wrap anything, Chloe… I have little patience for folding corners and color-coordinated bows… I'm sure my secretary would rather be wrapping gifts than answering phones anyway," he offered hopefully.

She raised a brow at him.

He frowned. "Fine…" He backed away from the many bags. "You get started and I'll open a bottle of wine for us."

Circling the red couch, she plopped down on the leather seat and began looking through bags, drawing out various gifts, and glancing around the apartment which was in no way celebrating the holiday spirit. "Where's your tree?" she wondered.

Oliver appeared next to her, bending and offering a glass of red wine before he took a seat on the couch next to her. He shrugged. "Packed away somewhere."

Her eyes narrowed. "As in a plastic monstrosity that you just fold up when you're done?"

He grinned at her appalled tone. "Yes… It's a little white one, with pre-hung red balls… I told you, I don't usually have time for shopping or decorating. I take shortcuts where I can."

She rolled her eyes. "The tree is not one of those places! It's like the center of it all… You go real or you go home, Queen!"

He chuckled. "It's more efficient this way. If I had more time, I'm sure I'd lug a heavy tree up the elevator just for you."

"Efficient," she muttered, scoffing. "Where's the unique shape? The fresh pine scent?"

Vastly amused, he offered, "I can rough it up a little for you and hang a few air fresheners off it."

She pursed her lips. "Let's see it."

"Seriously?"

She raised a brow. "It's either that or you break out the scissors and help me wrap up all these presents…"

He took a look around at the many different gifts they'd bought for their friends, going overboard on DVD's, CD's and games by far. But Oliver wasn't being thrifty with his credit card, beating Chloe to the till before she could spend a dime of her own money, and it seemed if she so much as glanced at it, he tossed it in the cart as they went. He wasn't even sure who half of the gifts belonged to, only knowing something had sparked a memory in her mind and a reason she might think someone she knew would want it.

But while buying was easy for him, the minute details of wrapping all the presents were just not something he was looking forward to. And so he stood from the couch and went in search of his old Christmas tree, half-rolling his eyes at her smug smile. He found the plastic _'monstrosity'_ in a storage closet, tucked away in its box for safe-keeping. There was a box of other decorations he dragged out, knowing she was going to hassle him to get the rest of his apartment in the mood as well. With the tree under his arm and the box on his hip, he came back out and dropped them to the floor where she'd made room before returning to the gifts, peeling off price tags.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor now, gifts piled around her, tape, scissors and wrapping paper at the ready, he had a moment where his heart thumped hard in his chest. She reminded him of his childhood for just a second, bringing in the warmth and light-hearted fun the holidays used to be about for him. She'd plopped a little red bow on top of her head, the sticky bottom clinging to her hair, and looked up with her bright green eyes before looking to the box of decorations animatedly.

"All right," she said, eyeing the box speculatively. "Blow my mind."

He stuck his tongue in his cheek to keep from grinning too widely when a flush of knowing bloomed across her cheeks. She obviously hadn't meant it in _that_ way but still… He'd much rather be doing just that.

Their friendship over the last year had meant everything to him and if he were being honest, he'd be happy if it took a very needed leap into something more. But Chloe was keeping things very much in the platonic zone and after everything she'd been through, he wasn't about to push her when she wasn't ready.

Dragging the plastic white tree out from its box, he situated it on the floor and bent to push branches down, separating those that were tangled and the ornaments that hung precariously. When he was done, he stepped back, staring at the snow white tree that stood out against the dark green background of his apartment.

She tipped her head thoughtfully. "It's not as awful as I expected…" she allowed. "But I still prefer pine to plastic… The scent alone brings back good memories."

"If by the time these presents are all wrapped, you can find an all-night tree store, I'll bow to your wishes," he offered, half-smirking.

She narrowed her gaze at him and his challenge. "All right… You finish putting up the decorations and I'll get the presents wrapped… _Then_ we're going to find a little Christmas cheer to bring back home."

Nodding, he grabbed up the decorations box and got to work, wondering why it was he was looking forward to walking through aisles of pine trees with a woman who would rather pretend he was like a brother than risk her heart on the relationship he was half-desperate to take place. He spent the next hour and a half putting up wreaths, garland, wall decorations and lights. By the time he stepped back, the apartment looked like Santa threw up and all of his cheer and spirit infiltrated the once empty apartment. Chloe slipped up to him then, tucking her arm around his.

"Not bad Queen… I think you're slowly being de-Scrooged…"

He snorted, looking down at her side-long. "So I'm not much of a Christmas person…"

She half-smiled, squeezing his bicep softly. "Hey, the holidays have a way of kicking you when you're down, especially when family isn't exactly around to share in the tidings…" She turned, staring up at him with knowing eyes. "But you won't be alone this season… You've got the guys and Lois and they all promised to share a giant turkey dinner with you as long as you didn't cook it, so… Something to look forward to."

"And you?" he asked, staring at her wonderingly. "Where's my favorite professor spending her holidays?"

She grinned. "After you decorated your apartment so nicely? Like I'd want to be anywhere else."

His lips quirked at the corners.

She winked then. "And you owe me a real tree, too… Presents are wrapped, apartment's decorated… I'd bet money we can find a tree lot open still…" She eyed the time thoughtfully and turned back to rub it in when she spotted something just above his head.

Oliver glanced up, surprised to see the sprig of green and red mistletoe resting above the doorway. He remembered putting it up awhile ago, thinking Bart would try to use it to his advantage around Dinah, Chloe and Lois that coming Christmas but hadn't expected to step under it himself.

She stared up at him, her eyes rather wide but almost expectant.

It took him a second to do anything; the look on her face making his stomach warm with anticipation. How long had he wanted something like this? For her to look at him like he was more than just a friend or one of the guys. Months. Instead of letting her hide away in his apartment and telling himself that QI work was more important, he took her out for dinner, engaged her in conversation, encouraged her to spend more time with him than her computers. And all that time, he'd been hoping that she'd look up at him and see that he'd fallen in love with her along the way. But Chloe kept her heart heavily guarded and he'd been hesitant to breach the walls for fear she'd shut him out.

Finally, he bent toward her, pausing just short of her mouth. Her eyes fell to half-mass and she let out the tiniest of sighs, her warm breath fanning across his mouth. Closing the distance, he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, more her cheek than her lips. He lingered, wanting to move those few millimeters left to take the sweet soft lips that were so close and so far. Instead, he drew back, disappointment and loss weighing heavy in his gut. It wasn't a couple hours ago he'd reminded himself that where their relationship went, whether it stayed in friendship or moved forward, would be in her hands and he would not pressure her.

He was barely parted from her when her hand wrapped around the back of his neck, fingers lightly feathering through his short hair.

"That the best you can do?" she teased lightly and his heart flip-flopped moments later when she leaned forward to do what he wouldn't.

Lips smoothing together, she took that last step into something more, dropping all barriers. Oliver wasn't about to let his one small chance slip away. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her waist, tightly anchoring her to him. His free hand buried in her hair, knocking her red-ribbon adornment from its place, and stroked her soft cheek with his extended thumb. She tasted vaguely of the wine he'd poured them, her warm tongue meeting and tangling with his own. He turned her then, so she was pressed against the doorway, her back flattened and her front pressed tight to his. His knees shook as the sheer intensity of emotion swelled through his veins, setting his skin afire and his heart hammering.

Months of hoping and trying and waiting ballooned into this one moment, where it only the necessity for air that finally had them separating. Chest heaving, eyes half-glazed, she stared up at him.

"No take-backs," he murmured, hopeful.

She licked her lips, drawing his eyes down once more. "That one's definitely for keeps…"

He grinned.

Her eyes widened slightly. "Not sure if it should be labeled Christmas miracle or the gift of all gifts…"

"That depends on what you say to dinner tomorrow night…" He arched his brows. "And giving this a fighting chance…"

"This," she repeated.

" _Us_ ," he said determinedly. "And if it was anyone's miracle, it was mine, Sidekick."

She raised a brow, arguing lightly, "You can't hog the miracle – it was _mutual_."

He smirked. "I might be persuaded to share… But it's a long road ahead."

She grinned slowly. "You keep it up and you can't cry mistletoe and backtrack…"

He tugged playfully on her earlobe. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sliding her arms around his neck, she tipped her head. "I'm gonna hold you to that."

He grinned, slow and genuine. "Good."

A miracle indeed.


	124. Dare to Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver Queen had lost his hope… and then a Christmas miracle went and brought it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **For** : tennysonslady - svgiftexchange  
>  **Warning** Disregards 10x11 – Icarus ; spoilers for the rest of season 10 and the end of season 9

 

Oliver Queen had lost his hope.

Standing atop the roof of the Daily Planet, the spinning golden globe behind him, he looked out across the city and knew two things. One – the people out there knew who he was; behind the green leather, the bow and arrows, the voice distorter. He'd outed himself and allowed the world amass know that it was he, billionaire CEO of Queen Industries, who gallivanted around each night as the vigilante hero in green. It was his own decision and so there was no one to blame, but he knew now that patrolling was harder. There was no more mystery to him but a human being that wasn't always as scary as the cunning Green Arrow. To some, he was even just the rich boy with an ego so large he had to find other ways to get his praise. The heroics of his job were little in comparison to the flawed person they knew him to be and couldn't help throwing in his face.

Was it a mistake to stand in front of all too many cameras and tell them his true identity? Probably. When he thought back on it now, he could see the holes in his plan. He'd been idealistic at the time, overwhelmed and lonely and at a loss for how to get her back. And didn't it always seem to come back to her somehow? So many of his darkest moments had her there, either picking him up or watching over him to keep him from the train wreck he was so hell-bent on making of himself. Or trading herself for him and disappearing out of his life, little trace to tell him she'd been there at all. Except for the scars on his heart, on his mind, and the aching loss that settled on his shoulders so heavily he sometimes wondered how he got up at all these mornings.

Two months and twenty five days. How long it'd been since he was traded; his life for hers; his freedom for hers. How long since he appeared back home, barefoot and broken but triumphant because he'd said nothing, revealed nothing, because he'd beat them at their scare tactics and their terrorism. Only to walk into his apartment and find… _nothing_. No Chloe, no _There you are! You're okay! I was so worried!_ No worried friends or compassionate understanding. An empty apartment, hollow and bereft of the warmth he'd grown so accustomed to of late. Because she was there, because her laughter had filled the corners of his apartment and made the walls themselves shift, widening, giving life to a place that was once just there for show. For all its modern furniture and top of the line designer atmosphere, it was the woman he'd come to love that had made it _home_.

And she was gone.

Even when she undoubtedly escaped Rick Flagg and his Suicide Squad. Even when she knocked back the antidote to the cyanide pill she'd taken when she decided her life was worth less than his. Even when she faked her death for the nth time and could have returned to him.

She was gone.

And he had held out hope. He'd kept the antidote bottle in his pocket every single day; fingering it for proof that she was out there somewhere, alive. It sparked something in his chest each time, it let him know that she didn't go into this without thinking it through; she had a plan. Chloe Sullivan _always_ had a plan. And while he had hoped that it entailed coming back to him, he'd yet to see any sign of that. Even when he broadcast to the world that he had a leather fetish, she was nowhere to be found. No phone call, no email, no text calling him the worst of secret keepers.

And so he waited.

For a sign, a phone call, a _smoke signal_ , even. But there was nothing. To the world at large, on paper or otherwise, Chloe Sullivan had never existed. And after two months and twenty five days, he was beginning to question her existence himself. Because he looked back, he remembered their time together; from target practice to the kind of kiss that smoldered, warming his body from the inside out, to weekend getaways and matching plaid robes, to making love until all hours of the day and feeling the hum of energy, of full and complete satisfaction, in the stretch of her body against his. Green eyes staring up at him, so mischievous and thoughtful and deep that he sometimes wondered how in the hell he managed to get her into his life for any amount of time. And then the curve of her lips, a smile like she knew exactly what he was thinking and could answer with nothing but a kiss, warm and wet and lingering enough that his thoughts jumbled and there was only her and silky skin and a bed made for spreading out and rolling and spending hours of just touching and kissing and exploring.

On December 20th, the last Monday before Christmas, Oliver Queen stared out at the city as snow began to fall, to fill the streets with its white blanket. He stared and he wondered if it was snowing where she was, if she would even celebrate the holidays this year, if she had _anyone_ to share it with. And then he realized that he didn't. AC was with Mera, Clark would be with Lois, Bart, Carter, Dinah and Courtney were all in the same hero game and couldn't risk being seen with him without being outed as vigilante affiliates. So Oliver Queen was alone, again, and the only person he wanted to spend this time with was missing, presumed dead by most, and with only five days left before the ultimate day of the season, the light he'd fed so heartily, that he'd stoked and reaffirmed daily, dimmed.

He drew out the whiskey brown bottle that once held the only proof of her existence; of her life beyond the death Rick Flagg had toted. He stared down at in his fingers as the chill began to burn his bare arms. And his logical mind told him that the Chloe Sullivan he'd loved, who spent endless mornings wrapped in his arms, pressing kisses to his chest and tracing scars with her deft fingers, wouldn't have left him to wonder about her life this long. He told himself that she was gone, that she had died and the antidote had failed her, that the world had lost the last good thing in it. And he let that bottle fall, drifting seemingly weightless through the snowy air as it fell toward the pavement below before crashing, shattering, shards spreading across the cement before they were covered and hidden by the white snow that thickened with each passing second.

He stared and he waited but nothing changed.

She was gone.

He was alone.

And his hope was lost.

…

Whether it was fate's intervention or his mind playing tricks he couldn't say.

The morning of the 21st, Oliver Queen walked into his office like he did everyday. He briefly greeted his secretary, who still looked at him a little perplexedly since he'd revealed his alter-ego, as if she wasn't quite sure what she should call him or how to under the complex nature of her boss. Wearing one of his favorite suits with one noticeable difference in way of a complete absence of green anywhere on his person, Oliver made his way inside the open landscape of his office and closed the frosted doors. He walked toward his desk already mentally going through his schedule – he had two meetings, three semi-urgent international phone calls to make, and an ex-girlfriend to abate, all before lunch.

Lois Lane was, he imagined, the kind of friend that came to her own conclusions about your health, mental or otherwise, and then decided how best to _fix_ you. Apparently, since the moment he revealed his Green Arrow visage to the world and admitted that Chloe was not on vacation, Lois had decided it was her job to make sure he didn't do anything stupid or drastic or so like the Oliver he was before Chloe had kicked him in the ass via Roulette and her nasty game of self-introspection. Which meant that she called often, daily, and wanted an up to date recollection of everything he'd done, thought, or said and if she didn't like it, she demanded it change. It wasn't something Oliver looked forward to; in fact, it reminded him entirely too much of a nanny he once had as a child who liked to scold him when he did anything she didn't deem right or proper. Given his high hopes that Chloe would return, Oliver had been practicing good behavior, trying to be strong and keep the belief that she was okay strong. But since last night, even he had begun to wonder if the decanter of aged whiskey sitting on the table across from him wouldn't be a better answer to the situation at hand. Getting himself drunk and allowing it to wash away the pain seemed like a good idea, one he'd given into entirely too many times in his life.

He wouldn't do that now, however. And he wondered if it was because he'd grown and changed or if because to do so would only tarnish the memory he had of her and how she'd helped him heal without any alcoholic substances whatsoever. Regardless, he left the whiskey where it was and continued to his desk. That day might have been like any other if it weren't for one very important difference.

His chess board was out.

The one he kept specifically closed and locked away as it was a prized possession of his father's and Oliver hadn't wanted anything to happen to it. He came to a very sudden halt, his heart pounding in his ears, his brows furrowed. Detouring, he walked to the board with a rigid spine, questioning what it meant. The board was in pristine condition, the wood box it was usually housed in was set up like a table, the board set on top of it with each piece standing in its designated place. And then Oliver's heart leapt into his throat. The one piece that was meant to be missing, the ivory queen he'd given to her what seemed so long ago, stood tall and certain on amongst its peers.

He reached for it almost hesitantly, worrying for a moment, rather ridiculously, that it might disappear entirely from his grasp. But then his index finger touched the top corner of her crown and he felt a whoosh of breath exit his lungs almost painfully. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until that very moment. Moisture, burning, gathered in his eyes and he knelt then, staring at the board, his mind moving a mile a minute, trying to understanding, to make some sense of what this all meant. Was it a sign? A trick? False hope? Because while his queen had been returned to him, it wasn't the woman he'd wanted. Still, he grabbed it, wrapping it in his palm, so tight he could feel the indentations throbbing against his skin. He stepped back from the board and he wondered, his chest thumping hard.

A spark, tiny, almost involuntary, flared up in him.

Hope? He couldn't say. Wasn't sure he even wanted to. The truth of the matter was that she was still missing, still lost, and he stood in an empty office with nothing but a memory to hold on to.

It wasn't enough.

…

That afternoon, a harried and distracted Oliver was avoiding the third call from one Lois Lane. He'd already dealt with two pissed off corporate assholes overseas, ate an unsatisfying lunch, gone through two painfully boring meetings while dodging the curious looks of business partners all wondering about his leathered alter-ego, and couldn't stop thinking about the chess piece currently taking up residence in his pant's pocket.

"Mr. Queen, an urgent package has arrived for you," his secretary buzzed him.

"Bring it in, please," he replied absently.

He wasn't expecting anything but it wouldn't be the first time he'd had gift baskets or the required holiday gift sent to him at work. His secretary brought in a dark green box and placed it carefully on his desktop, looking curious but abashed for wondering, and then turned and made her leave. Oliver stared at it a moment; there was no tag to say who it was from and most of his business partners had sent baskets, some with garish bows and smelly cheeses. He wondered for a moment if it might be a bomb – wouldn't be the first time – and didn't apologize for leaning forward as it to hear the imminent ticking. Hearing none, he finally reached for the sides, popping the top of and dropping it out of the way. Reaching through the mint colored tissue, his fingers searched out his gift before stilling as they found glass. A long cylindrical bottle appeared as he drew it from its bed of green tissue paper. Single malt scotch, and in his favorite brand.

His mind immediately brought him back to the last place he'd had a taste and a warmth filled him from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his toes.

_The thwack of the arrow hitting its intended position startled her as she took two steps from the door she'd entered through. Oliver half-smiled as she lifted a hand to her stomach as if to keep it from twisting with her flight or fight instinct. Recognizing the arrow, its target, and its shooter, her mouth curved in a smile and she relaxed immediately, turning to look at him as she undid the belt of her jacket. "Slow night?" she asked, cocking her head slightly._

_Drawing another arrow out, he answered, "Figured I'd squeeze in some target practice…" He placed the arrow on his bow and looked back at the bottle sitting near the table, "And a single malt."_

_Parting her jacket, she walked further into the room, her heels clacking against the floor and her hips swaying enticingly. "You bring enough for the rest of the class?"_

_He stared a moment at the green silk of her shirt before answering, "Help yourself, Professor."_

_She stopped at the table, jacket tossed over her arm, and gathered up the bottle and a glass for herself._

_"Running a little light on allegory tonight," he said, brows scrunched up as he raised his bow and aimed easily. Releasing the arrow, watching as it sunk into the target board exactly where it was meant to, he asked, "Bumpy day?"_

_Taking a seat on the couch behind him, she dropped the bottle to the table and admitted, "Not the smoothest."_

_Oliver fiddled with his bow, listening to her as she added, "Someone asked me when the last time I had a good time was and…"_

_He looked up suddenly, not sure if he liked the sound of what was implied. Was it completely ridiculous that the idea of a 'good time' and Chloe brought his mind entirely too close to the gutters? The strange feeling in his chest, a clenching, was too close to jealousy for his liking._

_"I didn't have an answer."_

_His eyes fell; he wasn't sure if that was sad or reassuring. Sad for her, yes; if anybody deserved to have a little light hearted fun in their lives, it was definitely the blonde behind him. Reassuring because he was fairly certain he didn't want anybody else to have that fun with her but him. Which was why he was here, again, invading her personal haven in hopes that she would be there, willing to spend a little time with him._

_He turned back toward her, staring at her over his shoulder a minute._

_She lifted her glass, looking tired, defeated even, and he felt the pressure in his chest ease. Who was he to be jealous of whoever provided fun in her life? She deserved it. But with the lives they lived, it didn't come easy. In fact, all too often it seemed out of reach. Thoughtfully, he watched her drink her scotch and then said, "I don't think anyone can fault you for being on edge, Chloe." He looked back down at his bow and returned his gaze to the target across the room. "I mean hell, if anyone can relate, it's me. I get it."_

_She breathed out a brief, agreeable hum. "Yeah, you can."_

_"Y'know…" He lifted his bow, grinning ever so slightly to himself, "Sometimes you have to take your fun where you can get it…" And hadn't he done that all too many times in his life? That brief, senseless, over-too-quick_ fun _that felt hollow as soon as it was gone._

 _He released an arrow and then turned to retrieve another. "And_ sometimes _…" He stared down, suddenly feeling something akin to vulnerability. "It's right in front of your face…" His brows spiked meaningfully. He inhaled deeply, even sharply, before turning to look at her, his eyes wide and firm and meeting hers with all the naked truth he had. "You just have to wanna see it."_

_She stared up at him, her eyes softer than he could ever remember, and her mouth quirked at the corners briefly._

_He grinned, unreasonably proud of himself for getting even the smallest of smiles from her. He quirked his head. "Come on…" And he thought he might've meant more than just_ 'Come here' _when his smile fled and seriousness replaced it._

_She watched him as she downed a little more of her drink and then dropped the glass with a purposeful thud to the table, as if it were the mallet of a judge making her final decision. Finally, she rose from her seat, circling the table, and crossed the space between them. She reached knowingly and he handed her his bow, keeping one hand on hers as she gripped it tight and brought it to chest level. He slid up behind her, his other hand reaching for her elbow and skimming lightly down her forearm. He looked down at her, at the halo of soft blonde hair that smelled entirely too good, and then he pressed up close and stared at the target aligned with them._

_"How do I know when to let go?" she asked, her voice low, quiet, almost whispery._

_He slid his fingers along hers at the grip, feeling them flex and tighten beneath his. "It's all about your heart," he replied in a raspy tone he couldn't help._

_She turned slightly, eyeing his hand as it swept along hers were she held the end of the arrow at the string of the bow._

_"Just listen…" His fingers strummed along her much smaller, softer ones. "Right there between the beats…"_

_She looked back at the target and then returned her gaze to their hands._

_"And that's when you let go…"_

_He heard her swallow, thick and tight, and he let his hand fall away from her, letting her make her decision, letting her decide what all of this meant._

_And then she released, she let go, and he watched in surprised awe as her arrow hit center with the target, aligned with the many he'd shot himself. His chest lurched, pride and appreciation making him grin. She turned in his arms then, her green eyes shining brightly, and smiled up at him in a way that suddenly made the rest of the room, the rest of the world, fade away entirely. And things weren't so black and white then, weren't just bows and arrows and fun. There was a woman in front of him that he'd grown to admire in ways he never had before. The carefree smile of before had faded into a look of understanding and he stared at her then like he'd never quite seen anything quite so incredible. In all ways;_ every _way. Her own smile faded, her eyes fluttering, blinking quickly as if she couldn't believe this was happening, that he was there in front of her._

 _His hand rose, fingers threading in her hair, thumb stroking the curve of her soft cheek. She rose up on her tip-toes and he leaned forward, eyes falling closed as soon as her lips met his. Her hand slid up his neck into his hair, firmly drawing him in; as if he'd even think to pull away. Lips parted, it was the heat of tongues meeting immediately on impact, the taste of expensive scotch and something uniquely Chloe spread across his taste buds. His arms wrapped around her, every muscle in his body tightening in response as her soft, pliant body met his own, coming together like matching puzzle pieces. There was no regret or hesitancy or lingering questions; for that moment, Chloe Sullivan was Oliver Queen's and he could quite honestly say that from that moment on, he would always be hers_.

Oliver came back to the present with a jolt.

He swallowed tightly, staring at the bottle with the kind of reverence alcohol should probably never encourage.

That was the beginning of… _everything_. Of something that was never meant to be more than just stringless nights of passion. And he'd known from the moment she turned in his arms and looked up at him, like a proud pupil that had just accomplished something so vast, that Chloe Sullivan was one of a kind and he wasn't going to let that go. He walked into their non-relationship knowing that she wasn't ready for anything more than 'fun,' even while he was certain that he could change her mind, that there would be more eventually. And there was; that was _so much_ more. Unfortunately, when they finally both admitted to it, he was kidnapped for information and a very disappointing 'join our team' rendition before the big trade that would end it all.

In the grand scheme, he almost found it lackluster.

Sometime during the seven months he'd been with Chloe, he'd decided that if anything broke them up outside of her emotional barriers it would be explosive; world-ending; like dying under a hail of gunfire while he made sure she got away, safe and alive. For some reason, and he was sure it had something to do with his ego, he figured he would save her. Not the other way around. Not in the way that meant he wound up alone, again. And maybe there was even a Romeo-and-Juliet-esque thought process going on when he even pondered the idea of them going down together. But walking away from disaster and having no idea where she was or why she wasn't with him, that definitely wasn't in his ten year plan.

Like the chess piece, he wondered if this was another sign; if it was her or just him reading into things too much. He placed it at the corner of his desk and stared at it. Hand sinking into his pocket, he fingered the chess piece much like he had the antidote vial, and then he leaned back in his chair and asked himself if a man without hope could contemplate something as trivial as a bottle of scotch this much.

…

As he had every night of the last two months and twenty-six days, Oliver left work alone, went home alone, shed his clothes and showered and ate and stared out at the frosty winter-scene of Metropolis _alone_. He had the bottle of scotch and ivory queen to keep him company, but they weren't exactly warm and willing bed partners. He'd sworn off drinking alone some time ago and was sure it was better for him, even if the ache that seemed to shadow him these days was just begging for something to make it ebb.

He didn't patrol that night.

He left his gear packed away in his hidden room and instead went to bed, feeling both mentally and physically exhausted. He laid back in the bed that never seemed so big before, telling himself it wasn't completely pathetic that he only occupied the left side knowing full well she liked the right. She wasn't about to miraculously materialize, no matter how much he wished she would. He turned then, because thinking of her in bed almost always ended with him looking at the picture he had of her sitting upright against his lamp. The one he'd taken some months ago, when her hair was tousled and her face was laced with the remnants of sleep, and there was nothing but a sheet to provide modesty. The picture he'd found in her apartment shortly after finding out from Flagg that she was dead, imbibing a cyanide pill to ensure she wouldn't say anything that might hurt the team. The picture that looked almost dream-like with her picturesquely staring back at him with a faint smile. But the picture wasn't there.

A thump hit his chest painfully and his eyes widened, searching to and fro, as if he expected it to appear suddenly from thin air. He threw the blanket off and turned, sitting up in the bed, his legs falling over the side. His mind whirled with questions and possibilities; where would she, if it was in fact _her_ , put it? He'd found it the first time because she'd known it would draw his attention, behind it was the clue. He walked out of his room, walking quickly across the apartment and then slowing down, his eyes darting, searching, for where she might have—

And then he spotted it. On his desk, right next to the picture of him and his parents in front of the Queen Industries yacht. He hurried to it, his stomach twisting and turning, wondering what clue he might find now. The last one was somehow both reassuring and disturbing. Wasn't every day he found out his girlfriend had taken cyanide, antidote or not. He reached for the picture, his shaking fingers picking it up. And behind it there was a box. White, rectangular, simple. He picked it up and stared a moment. The anticipation made his blood rush, his stomach flip-flop, before finally he raised the top of the box and stared down inside.

A spoon. Sterling silver, the bowl of the spoon featured oranges and orange blossoms embossed into it while the stem read CALIFORNIA. His home state. And tied around it was a green ribbon. He grinned.

_She backed into the bedroom giggling; for all of the tension in the lower half of the McDougall Inn, all of which was centered around the other couple they hadn't expected to see on their mini-vacation, the time spent with Chloe was still lighthearted. She tugged him along with her by the hand, pausing to grin up at him._

_Sliding in close, he wrapped an arm around her waist and twirled her, his hands spreading along her back._

_"I must say, your taste in wine is_ almost _as good as your taste in women," she told him._

_"Thank you." He lifted a hand and tapped his finger against the corner of her mouth. "You have a little bit of Pinot actually, right there." He ducked his head, lips meeting hers in a good. "Look at that, I got it!" As she laughed, her hand running up his shoulder, he kissed down her neck._

_Stilling suddenly, she cleared her throat. "Um… Unless Christmas came early, that_ better not _have my name on it."_

_Standing straight, he looked back at the bed where she was staring firmly, though her arms were still wrapped around him._

_"Oh, well," He drew back, squeezing her hands before he reached for the rectangular box sitting on the bedspread. "Maybe you've just been especially good this year." Keeping her hands in one of his, he held the box in the other, looking from it to her rather nervously. "Maybe… a guy shouldn't take someone like you for granted."_

_She stared up at him, her eyes wide and almost… sad. "I didn't think you were, Ollie," she murmured. She took the box from him, a powder blue, and turned it over slowly, spotting the McDougal Inn sticker on the back._

_He grinned, waiting for her to open it._

_Instead, she frowned knowingly, lifting her eyes. "Clark said something, didn't he?"_

_He raised a brow. "It's just a gift," he promised._

_"No!" She shook her head. "No, no, no, **no**." She lifted the gift and stepped away, past him. "It's a slippery-slope." She put the box on the bed and inhaled deeply. "Just because gifts are **never** 'just because.'" She whirled around to face him and his confused expression. "There's always some unspoken part like 'I'm _sorry _,' or 'I feel very strongly about you,' both of which are **complicated**!" _

_His face fell. Even though he'd known, while buying it, that it was taking a very large step, he'd hoped her reaction would be different. But her 'let's not rock the boat attitude' really hadn't changed. If anything, it was getting stricter. And now he was wondering if she might just call the whole thing off. His stomach dropped. He shook his head, ready to argue in favor of 'them' in whatever capacity she would take._

_"Oliver, I wanted to keep things simple, you know?" Her face screwed up as she shook her head. "No strings o-or ribbons." She turned, grabbed up her jacket quickly and hurried toward the door._

_"W-Wait! Wh-Where are you going?" he stuttered, startled by her departure._

_"I'm going for a walk," she said, turning back to him as she stood in the doorway._

_His mouth pursed, the question of 'why?' lingering but unspoken._

_"When I get back, can we just hit the reset button and play our favorite indoor game again?" she asked with purpose before raising a brow and walking away._

_Swallowing tightly, he watched her leave before his hands fell uselessly to his sides and he sighed, feeling an acute loss_.

So if ribbons and gifts were complicated, if they were a slippery-slope toward a committed relationship, then her giving him this meant something, right? Because nobody else was in that room but them, nobody else knew the intricacies of their non-relationship but them. The meaning behind this was too profound to be anybody _but_ Chloe.

He took the picture and the spoon and he walked back to bed. He placed them on his bedside table and then he found his pants and he dug around in the pocket for the chess piece before adding it too to his collection of reminders. And then he laid back on his bed, crossing his arms behind his bed, and stared at the ceiling, wondering…

What did it all mean?

…

The next morning, Oliver woke up late. He blamed it on the fact that he'd had a terrible sleep, tossing and turning and his mind too cluttered with questions and worries and arguments. He got into work and received the first annoyed expression from his secretary in months. Apparently it was regular Oliver who was late, not the illusive and even mysterious Green Arrow. He couldn't help but be glad she wasn't looking at him differently any longer. He had a meeting in ten minutes, one he wasn't sure he was prepared for, but he went in and put on a good show of looking like he knew what was going on. Three hours later, he was sitting back at his desk and seriously contemplating the single malt scotch he'd received but then remembered it was back at home.

With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and frowned. For the last few days before Christmas, he wasn't feeling so cheerful. Exhausted, overworked and lonely, yes. He was fairly sure a long vacation on a beach would be warranted right now. Instead, he had paperwork and phone calls and an empty stomach to contend with.

The buzz of the intercom interrupted his thoughts.

"Mr. Queen, you have another package."

Oliver sat forward quickly, heart beating faster. There was no reason to assume it was from her except that the last few surprises had been right up her alley. "Bring it in," he asked, trying to stop fidgeting with anticipation.

When she stepped inside with a gift basket, his face fell. Not what he'd been expecting, or hoped for.

She placed it on the desk in front of him. "There was a card, something about Mr. and Mrs. Green. I'm not aware of who they are. I checked your contacts database and we don't have them on file, so—"

"Repeat that," he said, shaking his head.

"I checked your contacts—"

"No, who was it from?" he interrupted quickly.

"A Mr. and Mrs. Green," she replied skeptically, staring at him a little worriedly. "Should I call security?" She took a step back. "Should I be ducking and covering?" She eyed the package worriedly.

He grinned slowly. "No." Standing, he reached for the green ribbon that held the plastic wrap tight around it and untied it quickly, reaching inside for the contents.

One by one, he started taking things out. Shower gel. A loofa. A shaving kit. Massage oil. Monogrammed bathrobes with a Q insignia. And one green bath mat.

 _They were standing on the porch of McDougal Inn, the truth of his anticlimactic spoon gift now freely out there in the open, and they'd crossed to stand just feet from each other._ " _For future reference, and y'know, strictly for environmental purposes… The next time you want to take a shower with someone," he laughed slightly, "Chloe, you can ask **me** …" Maybe it was a little bit of jealousy, of hope, but he wanted her to take him, and only him, up on that. _

"A His and Her shower kit?" his secretary questioned, lips pursed slightly. "Unexpected."

He laughed under his breath. "A very good adjective for her." He looked back up at his curious secretary and smiled briefly. "Thank you."

Knowing a dismissal when she heard it, she nodded before turning on her heel and leaving him to his business.

Oliver sat back in his chair and shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Unexpected, yes… but not unwanted.

…

The day only went downhill from there. In fact, the only highlight seemed to be her gift. He got home late, feeling tense and more tired than ever, and his stomach grumbling. As tired as he was, he couldn't imagine doing anything in the kitchen and he pondered what restaurants might be open this late and willing to deliver. Just then there was buzzing in the front foyer to let him know the elevator had arrived. His stomach flipped over and he ran back toward the entrance.

Was it foolish to want her to be there? Was it _hopeful?_

It wasn't her. There was a man with a brown bag in hand, fidgeting and bobbing his head to whatever was coming out of the earbuds he had in.

Releasing the elevator door, he stepped over to see who it was.

The guy looked up, a teenager with a new license and his first job, Oliver assumed. He handed over the brown bag. "Good eating, man," he said, before reaching over and pressing the button to get the elevator to go down.

Oliver stared down at the bag in hand, frowning.

Thai Palace, the receipt read, Pre-Paid – Peanut Allergy!

A memory sparked.

_Stuck in an air duct, drill in hand, working to get the satellite - which he'd had made specifically with her in mind - up and running, he raised the walkie-talkie to his mouth and said, "You know, ya gotta admit I know how to treat a girl on date night!"_

_He could practically hear her grin as she replied, "Sure, next weekend you think we could maybe just grab some Thai food and catch a movie?"_

_Dragging the slotted cover out of the way, he looked inside to the wires beyond. "Sounds like a good plan, but for tonight you're gonna have to settle for streamed satellite video.._." _He reached inside to plug in a few wires._

_"Hey! The link is up!" she cried excitedly. "Why don't you make your way home?" Nothing ever sounded so good._

Of course, that was the night it all changed. The time Flagg and his Squad had captured him and he never made it home to her. And later, when he finally did get back to the apartment, she wasn't there. So their date of Thai food had never come to fruition. His throat tightened, stomach rumbled, and he stepped back inside his apartment. When he finally sat down at the empty kitchen table, one plate in hand, he dug out each container and set it all up. The extra spring rolls on the bottom of the bag made him smile; she knew him so well. In fact, she'd have had to keep an eye on him and call just as he was leaving work to make sure the food arrived on time. In a weird way it was incredibly thoughtful of her.

But while he sat there at his table, every other seat without a person to fill it, the apartment itself so very hollow, he couldn't help but think that while the gesture was nice, it wasn't what he wanted.

It still wasn't her.

…

It was the 23rd of December, which meant that everybody wanted out of work. His secretary was getting antsy, wondering if she'd picked up all her gifts and would be able to make her flight in time to visit family in Connecticut. Most of his business partners were tying up loose ends so they could spend Christmas Eve and Christmas at home with their families. Lois had already called three times to try and convince him spending the holiday with her and Clark would be a good idea. He was still pretty sure she was very, very wrong.

The doors to his office burst open and his secretary walked hurriedly to his desk. She hadn't even bothered to warn him, instead dropping the box and shrugging apologetically before she touched her blutooth. "No, mom, I told you… I hate yams." She smiled lopsidedly at Oliver in a 'What can you do?' way and he simply waved her off, back to her phone call.

Staring at the white box, he frowned. Opening it meant he was going along with her game, letting himself be sucked in, letting his hope get bigger and brighter, and hadn't he let go of this because it was an endless and lonely question of "Where is she? Will she ever return?"

His fingers itched however and while curiosity had always bitten Chloe far worse, he couldn't help himself. Popping the top off the box, he reached inside and found… a card.

It was simple, stating _Happy Belated Birthday_ and signed _Professor._

Beneath it was a _sweater_. Fern green, lightweight silk knit, v-neck, with long sleeves.

A half-smile found his mouth and he shook his head, laughing under his breath.

 _Chloe ran toward her computer screens, all of them devoid of picture except for buzzing snow. "We lost all satellite communication, I can't reach anybody…" She turned around, seeing yet another lost feed, and threw her hands up in frustration. "It's like_ everyone _I sent out there is a sitting duck and Zod's about to call a start to hunting season." She turned around to look at him, angry, and then stomped away from her computers._

_Brows furrowed, he followed her with his eyes. "Take a breath Chloe…" He followed after her to yet another computer set-up. "You've stared down the barrel of a gun before."_

_She whirled around, walking backwards toward a desk. "We're dealing with like a_ hundred _Clark's here!" She started tossing things into a box. "I don't know if I can dodge this speeding bullet."_

_"Well you're not in it alone," he reassured calmly. "We're a team, right? You got me." When her tossing of things only hurried up, he reached out and took her arms into his hands gently, drawing her eyes up to his. "Hey…" He shook his head. "Trust me."_

_After sighing, she smiled up at him. "Thank you." Brows furrowed, unconvinced, she told him, "But I don't think you talking me of a ledge is gonna help us solve our technical difficulties." Grabbing up her box, she started moving again._

_"Okay, uh, then maybe this will…" He grabbed up the lid of her box that she dropped and followed behind her to another desk. "You know when Tess broke into our little clubhouse here? Well I had Queen Industries launch an orbiter dedicated_ to _Watchtower…" Smugly, he dropped the lid on top of her box._

 _Chloe paused, head lifting. She raised her hands into the air, fingers pointing with excitement. "Wait a minute…" Eyes wide, she turned around to face him and narrowed her gaze. "We have our own_ satellite? _"_

_Hands crossed behind his back, he nodded. "Yeah."_

_"Why didn't you tell me this before?" she demanded, eyes rounding._

_"Well, it was sort've a gift…" he said, grinning, proud of himself._

_She smiled. Blinking her eyes rapidly, she shrugged her shoulder. "Uh, well I guess giving you a sweater for your birthday is out of the question now…" She laughed breathlessly, staring up at him._

_He stared back at a moment, his chest thumping at the expression of bright appreciation in her eyes. Why did he suddenly feel like a satellite was a ring and she'd said yes? Before he could follow that line of thinking too much, he cleared his throat and got back to business…_

It was like every important moment or conversation was being thrust into his hands, into his life, in just a few short days. Like she was telling him without words, without her there in person, that she was always there, that she remembered what they had, that she never forgot or misinterpreted or underappreciated anything.

Emotion clogged his throat.

Because yes, now he knew. Chloe Sullivan was very alive and she was out there, very likely in Metropolis that very moment, but she still wasn't within reach.

It didn't stop him from tossing his Armani shirt and jacket off in favor of his new sweater. And when he leaned back in his chair, his phone ringing loudly and going ignored, he relaxed and smiled and felt more at ease than he had in nearly three months. When his secretary came in to see what the problem was, he sent her home early with a Christmas bonus and an order to have a nice, long holiday. Then he unplugged his phone and he prayed for one last Christmas miracle.

…

On Christmas Eve, Oliver Queen received a phone call from every one of his friends. From Impulse to _Big Bird_ , he wished a happy holiday to his teammates, his friends, his ex-girlfriend, and the handful of people in the entire world that even cared what he was doing.

There was no tree in his living room, no stockings hung with care, no yule tide carols or presents to be opened. There was no eggnog in his fridge or Christmas parties to attend, no chestnuts roasting on an open fire. There was leftover Thai food in the fridge – enough for _two_ , he thought sadly – and a bottle of scotch still unopened. As the day drew dark while he avoided Christmas movies in favor of any non-holiday-related TV, he watched the sun set over the buildings around him and the snow as it filled the sky.

The buzz of the elevator made every muscle in his body tense. It could be Lois, the guys, any number of people, and he didn't want to get his hopes up like he had when the Thai delivery kid had arrived. Climbing off the couch, stretching his unused limbs, he crossed the apartment and stared at the video feed, at the man waiting in his elevator with yet another package. And finally, he pressed the button to release the door.

The man was dressed in a UPS outfit and had a clipboard and paper for him to sign. "Oliver Queen?" he asked.

Oliver nodded shortly, accepting the package thrust into his hands before he signed for it and within just moments was walking back to his desk as the UPS delivery man had taken the elevator back down the building.

Opening the box without preamble, he pulled another one from inside.

 _Custom Puzzles_ the top read and his brow furrowed wonderingly. He popped open the lid and turned it over. Pieces littered the top of his neck, of all shapes and sizes. Getting to work, he started putting it together, snorting to himself as he realized that Oliver Queen, once known as the ultimate catch and bachelor, was putting together a _puzzle_ on Christmas Eve. It took him an hour to put it all together; it wasn't a very large puzzle but it was intricate; as if he could expect anything less. When it was finished, the center was missing, on purpose. Put together the picture made a dark, starry sky with a large satellite and in the very center was a cutout of a _star_ …

Brows furrowed, he thought back to the spoon. _California_. And now this…

He shook his head. It was a long-shot and there was a chance he was jumping to conclusions, but…

He had his jet fueled immediately and was on his way to Star City, California in no time at all.

Despite his best efforts, Oliver was hoping, _desperately_ …

…

Star City was by no means a small place. With a suspension bridge, the Grell Museum and Papp Stadium as just a few of the local landmarks, the city boasted five million people and counting. Which meant that he had a lot of surface to cover and very few leads. During their relationship, Chloe and Oliver hadn't ventured far outside of Metropolis. Besides the McDougal Inn, they'd spent most of their time between his apartment, the watchtower, and surrounding city landscape. But she'd known where he hailed from, of his childhood and his home; he'd shared memories with her about life before his parents had been killed and dreams that one day he might be able to recreate that same kind of family atmosphere.

That was what brought him here, _home_ , to the Queen Manor. Where once the fields on either side of the tall, white marble house were lush with green grass, now they were dead and withered, patches of dirt showing through. Snow hadn't fallen here, blanketing it like Metropolis. The landscape was almost barren and so very opposite of what he remembered. The giant apple tree he'd climbed, and fallen from, all too often as a child was missing, a stump in its place, and the windows of his childhood home were broken in some places, boarded in others. It was something his mother would no doubt cry over and he felt a tug at his heart. He'd avoided this place since he was eighteen and able to strike out on his own.

Parking the car, he stepped out and stared up at the tall front entrance. He used to run out those doors and jump into his dad's arms every day when he returned from work. He used to stare out the windows of the living room for hours on end, waiting and wishing and hoping to see the car pull down the driveway. His eyes darted to the familiar window, which is when he saw the light. A flicker, not a lamp but of a fire burning.

His heart leapt up into his throat.

Either he'd go inside to find squatters and have his hopes dashed yet again, or…

He hurried inside, even as his hands shook and his logical mind argued with him every step. He pushed open the doors and heard the hinges squeak in protest. Dust kicked up and the hallways seemed to echo as he crept through slowly, his every step sounding like a heavy thump. He let the door fall closed behind him and walked further inside, staring at the now broken and unused stairs where once the polished banister had served as his slide. Feelings of regret welled inside him and he turned away, catching the flicker of fire bouncing along the walls once more.

He walked toward it, wondering what he might see as he turned the corner. On Christmas Eve, as a kid, he'd have found a tree decorated to the nines, so tall it was like three of his dad's stacked one on top of the other. They had to use a ladder to get it all decorated with stands of popcorn and cranberries his mom and his nanny strung themselves. There would be gifts piled beneath the branches and decorations all over, lining walls and shelves and embodying the Christmas spirit in every nook and cranny. The scent of his mom's baked goods would fill the air and cookies and desserts would fill plates all over. He hadn't had a Christmas like that in over fifteen years.

When he turned the corner, he was waiting to feel disappointment; to see the peeled paint and the dusty furniture, no parents or nanny or Christmas cheer. Instead, he found a tree; much smaller than the one he'd had as a kid, but a bushy pine nonetheless. There were red and gold baubles, silver tinsel and white garland, and a lopsided angel perched on the top. The coffee table was moved, but its top had plates of sugar cookies and fruit cake and butter tarts that made his mouth water. There was a glass of eggnog with cinnamon sprinkled on top and a platter of cheeses, meats, and crackers, and lastly a bowl of mixed chocolates. He shook his head, his throat burning, and his eyes scanned the rest of the room. The fire burned warm, a thick plaid blanket tossed before it, and a bottle of Pinot chilling in a bucket of ice. He couldn't believe what he was seeing and for a moment even questioned his sanity.

Four days ago, he'd been done, finished, he was letting her go and accepting that what they had had been lost. And then… Then _this_ happens and even with the evidence before him, he wasn't certain of the meaning. Because he had Christmas set up before him but the one thing he wanted most, the one _person_ he needed, wasn't there in the center of it all. He wasn't sure if his heart was breaking or mending anymore.

"Not exactly the Christmas party you probably remember… especially since the house is empty besides us," her voice suddenly filled the room, calling out to him.

He whirled, found her standing there just feet behind him. He stared at her with wide, stunned eyes.

She wiped her hands on her jeans, looking around nervously. "The tree's a little crooked… You wouldn't _believe_ how much harder it is to put one up on your own… And I took awhile to get it so it's probably not the most _attractive_ tree you could get, but it has a certain Charlie Brown feel to it, I thought…" She chewed her lip. "The sugar cookies might be a little stale, too… I was in a hurry and packing everything from one place to the next was hectic… The stove here doesn't work, which I expected, but…" She sighed, pausing in her rambling to look up at him. "Say something… Ollie?"

"Where've you been?" he asked, his voice coming out in a hoarse rasp.

"In hiding, mostly…" She fiddled with her hands. "Nowhere near Metropolis until this last week…" She shook her head. "It was just safer that way."

His mouth opened, closed, no words escaping. There was really only one question that had been bothering him, plaguing him even. " _Why?_ "

She stared at him, a certain level of knowing bright in her eyes. "Why'd I star or why'd I trade myself?"

His jaw tightened. "Both."

"Because I…" She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "I couldn't live in a world without you…" Her voice cracked and she turned away, as if the emotion hurt too much to show. "And when I woke up, when I got away, when it _worked_ …" She licked her lips. "I knew that if they found out, they'd come looking for me."'

He stared at her angrily. "I could've kept you safe."

"And put you at risk again?" She turned back to him angrily. "After I'd just made sure they couldn't _hurt_ you anymore? No!"

"Damn it, Chloe!" he yelled. "We were supposed to be a team! _Group decisions!_ " He shook his head wildly. "You can't decide for us, for _me_ , and _sacrifice_ yourself!"

"The world needed Green Arrow," she argued logically, " _More_ than it needed Watchtower!"

"Well I needed _you!_ " Some part of him wanted to shake her, wanted to get her to see reason, but it'd been seven months of her not wanting to see what she could, what she _did_ , mean to him. "Haven't you realized that by now?"

Her face fell, eyes darting to the floor. "Oliver…"

"You don't get to take it back," he told her, thinking back, remembering, how she'd said she loved him. The last words he'd heard from her before Flagg and his Squad had taken him away. "I spent seven months working my ass of to get you to open your eyes and when you _finally_ do…" He laughed hollowly. "You disappear off the face of the earth with nothing but the promise that you loved me and an empty goodbye…" His jaw ticked, brows furrowed. "What was I supposed to do? You were just _gone!_ "

"Fight…" she told him thickly. " _Survive_ … Be the man, the _hero_ , I always knew you were."

"Right…" He nodded sarcastically. "Work through the pain, shove it down, ignore it, because that worked out _so well_ for you."

Chloe flinched. "Is it too much to ask that you see this from my point of view?"

He gave a short, caustic laugh. "That depends…" He stared at her, brow raised. "Is it coming from Watchtower or Chloe?" He cocked his head. "Because Tower is a tactician; she does things for the greater good of humanity…" His expression softened. "And Chloe is just a woman with a heart, trying desperately not to let it be broken."

She stared at him a long moment, before softly wondering, "I can't be both?"

His shoulders fell, anger fading, and he half-smiled. "I fell in love with both… I _lost_ both…" He swallowed thickly. "But right now, all I want back is Chloe…" He shook his head meaningfully. "All that other stuff, the heroics and the reasons, and saving the world, it can _wait_ … Because it's Christmas and the love of my life has finally come home…"

She smiled, watery and emotional. "I missed you," she breathed.

He grinned. "Not half as much as I missed you."

She rolled her eyes, lifting a hand to swipe at a tear. "It's not a competition, Ollie."

Reaching for her, he said, "If it were, I'd be winning."

With a grin, she stepped into his embrace, her arms sliding around his waist and squeezing. For a moment, she just leant her head against his chest, ear pressed to his heart, and his chin fell to the crown of her head, nestled in blonde curls. His arms wrapped tight around her, around the petite, curvy body that he'd missed so incredibly much. His hands slid up and down her back, fingers spread and reaching, almost as though he expected her to disappear any second. It could've been minutes or hours before he finally drew back a little to look down into her face.

She stared back up at him, the same bedroom eyes of the woman in the picture on his bedside table rather than the worried or brisk gaze of the team member he'd fallen for. This was just Chloe, the woman who loved tulips and almond mochas with extra whip, the woman who teased him about having a leather fetish but had no qualms about letting Green Arrow take her against the wall of his apartment or in his weapons room or across the mats of his exercise floor – now who had the fetish?

Stroking the hair back from her face, he let his fingertips dance down her cheek. Her expression softened, eyes falling to half-mass, and the light of the fire lit her up so ethereally. Ducking his head, he caught her lips and three months of missing her and worrying he might've lost her completely and fighting desperately to keep his hope from dying, it was all worth it. The taste of her, like flames licking across his skin, sent his heart soaring and his stomach flipping in the best of ways. He buried a hand at her neck and held on tight, feeling every muscle of his body as it tightened in response, on edge and anticipating every swipe of her tongue meeting his. Her nails scraped through his hair and down his neck as she slowed down, sipping at his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured, as if she'd felt the desperation and the worry in him.

He pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm holding you to that."

She grinned.

Licking his lips, the taste of her lingering, he looked up and around the room, but didn't let his arms drop from around her. "Quite the Christmas present, Professor… Elaborate, intimate, reminiscent; you hit it out of the park."

She raised a brow. "This is just the set-up, hero… Me and my good friend Victoria's Secret have a much more _intimate_ evening planned, equipped with green lace and an in-depth welcome home…" Her eyes sparked and he felt it, like a heat that warmed his soul.

He stared at her a long moment, at the tilt of her lips, and he squeezed her close. "I love you," he said, staring thoughtfully into her eyes. "I've never loved anyone the way I've loved you and I _never_ will again."

Her eyes widened, brightened, filling with tears. " _Oh_ …" she murmured, voice cracking with emotion. She sniffed to cover it. "Repeating my words back to me, Queen, I think that might be some form of cheating."

He laughed, wiping her tears away as they escaped down her cheeks. "Took me seven months to get you to admit it, you think I won't use it against you the rest of your life?"

She smiled lightly. "I think I'd like that."

The old grandfather clock his father had favored rung loud then, letting them know midnight had found them.

And when she didn't disappear, didn't melt away from his arms, but continued to stand there, solid and real, he nodded. "Merry Christmas, Chloe."

Rising up on her tip-toes, she pecked his lips lingeringly. "Merry Christmas, Ollie."

There were no presents beneath the tree, wrapped in garish paper or filled with colorful tissue. There was no sound in the room but for the clicking of the clock and their breathing. This hadn't been his home in more than fifteen years and the people he'd come to think of as family were spread out across the world. But he had her and in her he had his hope; for himself and the world and humanity at large. That Christmas, with nothing to show for it but bits and pieces of their relationship, and the woman herself in his arms, Oliver Queen dubbed it the best he'd ever had. He had her back and though their life was anything but simpler for it, he wasn't going to let her go. When the holidays found their end, the world would return to its previous disorder and Green Arrow and Watchtower and their fellow heroes would have to save it, somehow. But for now, it was just them, just Oliver and Chloe and a Christmas for two.

"Did you make the butter tarts yourself?" he wondered, breaking the silence.

She laughed lightly. "I did."

And thus began their first of many Christmas feasts.


	125. Staking Claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (1) Chloe lets Black Canary know that Oliver is strictly off limits.  
> (2) Oliver learns the meaning of jealousy when Chloe meets Dean Winchester.

**1/2**

Chloe rolled her eyes. She was doing it  _again_. Recently, it seemed Dinah had noticed Oliver was an extremely handsome man. How it seemed to pass her unnoticed in the past, she had no idea. But now that Dinah had taken her blinders off, she was officially trying to get the Justice League leader’s attention. Her flirting consisted of being overtly sexual and using her slim, toned body to distract him. Obviously, she didn’t know Oliver that well, however. He’d trained himself to keep his eyes steady and never let his attention sway from what was important. So while she continued to lean into him when she didn’t need to and reach out to touch his arm just to feel the strength behind them, he acted oblivious to the whole thing.

What bothered Chloe most was that the League knew about their relationship and still Dinah figured she could turn his attention toward her. Chloe was at his computer, gathering information on a mission coming up and Dinah was laughing, low and sexy, as she leaned in close to Oliver and spoke to him in undertones. Oliver, for his part, was mostly distracted by the file he had in his hands and had made a few sarcastic remarks. Instead of getting the hint that he was busy, she reached out and ran a hand over his chest, drawing his eyes up, furrowing as he looked at her in question.

“Always so busy,” she drawled, her brow lifting. “You know what they say… All work and no play makes Ollie a very, very dull boy.” She smirked. “I know just the remedy though.”

Chloe had enough. She was staking her claim and the annoying little peacock could just back off.

Placing her palms on the desk, she stood up abruptly and crossed the room, sliding in between her boyfriend of eight months and the Black Canary. “Look,  _Pigeon girl_ , I’m getting tired of you constantly hitting on him. He’s taken, get a clue.”

Dinah lifted a brow, her mouth pursing in irritation. “What’s wrong? Scared he might trade up?”

Chloe’s head cocked to the side and her expression darkened. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s not interested.”

She looked amused.

“So,” Chloe said mockingly bright. “You’re going to stop throwing yourself at him, or I’m going to clip your wings!”

Dinah frowned, looking nonplussed by the bird joke. “What’s wrong with a little competition?” she drawled, staring down at Chloe with thin eyes.

“Go compete for somebody else,  _Duckie_.”

Dinah simply thinned her lips and turned her gaze up toward Oliver. “When you want a real woman, come find me.” With that, she turned and walked away, a sway to her hips.

Chloe avoided growling, instead making faces at her as she left.

She heard Oliver try to stifle a laugh behind her and turned around, glaring.

He lifted his hands in surrender. “I didn’t do anything.”

Giving him a look, she pursed her lips and turned to walk back to her desk.

With a sigh, he followed. “It wasn’t like I was encouraging her advances.”

“You weren’t  _dis_ couraging them either,” she reminded, pulling her chair up behind her as she sat down. Her fingers flew over the keys with a little extra fervor in her irritation.

He stepped up behind her, hands falling to her shoulders. “I’m not interested in…” He cleared his throat. “Duckie.”

She forced her smile away, trying her best to ignore him.

He massaged her shoulders, thumbs rubbing at her neck soothingly. Her eyes fluttered shut and her body shifted back until she was leaning into his grip. The tension drained out of her and she felt her toes curl as his hand slid lower, kneading at her back and sides. His magic fingertips made her bite her lip and sigh in content. As they found the small of her back, her body arched and her head fell back. Her eyes opened slowly, staring up at his smug grin.

“Still mad?”

“Not with you,” she said with a slight shrug.

He chuckled before leaning down and pressing his lips against hers. He nibbled her lower lip, his tongue twining with hers. The upside down angle was something new and she found she kind of liked the way his chin brushed against her nose. It was intimate and comfortable. As he parted from, she licked her lips. “How very Spiderman,” she teased, eyes glittering with laughter.

He rolled his eyes, brushing her bangs from her face and pecking her forehead. “I have to fax this to Bruce ASAP,” he said, motioning to the papers he left on the side of the desk. “So were good?” he asked, brow lifting.

“We’re fine,” she told him, nodding.

“Fine,” he said contemplatively.

He shook his head before he turned her chair around and placed his hands on either side of her, holding the armrests. He leaned forward and captured her mouth once more. Her breath left her at his kiss; deep and passionate. Everything seemed to melt away as his tongue twined with hers and their noses brushed. Her hands rose, fingers gripping either side of his jaw, as if to hold him in place, never letting the kiss end. When air became a necessity, the parted a tiny bit, just enough to suck in air. Her eyes slid open to slits and met his glazed eyes.

“Better than fine?” he asked, breathing heavy.

She nodded slightly. “Really, really great,” she murmured.

He grinned.

“That fax… It’s really important?” she asked, fingers sliding down his neck to stroke his skin suggestively. She tipped her head back, pressing a kiss to his chin. “Like, has to be done this second, important?” She nibbled around his lips, sucking his top lip into her mouth.

One of his hands rose, burying in her hair. “I can do it later,” he muttered, before drawing her up out of her seat. Within seconds she was backed up and pressed against the wall, his hands roaming around her, tugging at clothes and stroking her skin feverishly. Yeah, she had nothing to worry about. Oliver wouldn’t be looking for a real woman anytime soon. He already had one. And he knew it.

* * *

 

**   
** **2/2**

From afar, Oliver Queen watched uncomfortably as his wife of a year stood in deep conversation with Dean Winchester. While doing recon in a small town where Lex had recently set up shop, he and Chloe ran into the two Winchester hunters and Chloe was in her element. Being a long time lover of all things weird, she got along with them as if they were her long lost equals. While it usually wouldn’t bother him that she’d met somebody that she could relate to, the way Dean Winchester was looking at her, he wasn’t exactly rooting for them spending much time together.

Not usually a man who fell into the trap of jealousy, he was a little uncertain about how to handle the situation. He and Chloe had been together three years and the only time jealousy came up it was Chloe’s problem with Dinah Lance’s obvious flirting. Despite the Black Canary’s various advances, he loved Chloe, which was why he married her a little over a year before. And they were more than happy together. While their life was dangerous and often demanding, going home together made it a little less pressuring.

For Oliver, life hadn’t been what he’d call normal. It was hard having no parents and he’d been a jerk in Excelsior. But he’d learned his lesson and he became a better person. He still wished he could’ve learned it differently than watching Lex beat his best friend to a pulp, leading said boy to be hit by a truck. But he could do nothing to change that now. His life didn’t become what he’d label “weird” until he picked up his Green Arrow gear and really dug into the happenings of the world. He’d come across some odd characters and he’d taken them on with all of himself. But still, he didn’t have the tales that Chloe had and sometimes he found himself shocked by what she’d seen and done in her life. He imagined someone like Dean Winchester would understand that side of her a whole lot better. It didn’t make him better equipped to love her, but it did worry him that she might find a connections he could see between herself and him.

He barely heard what Sam was saying next to him, something about serious digging he’d done into the weird occurrences around town. Sam seemed the more level-headed of the two brothers. Down to business and do what needs to be done. Whereas Dean saw an adventure and enjoyed the downtime. He wasn’t as stiff or serious as his younger brother was. In a way, he was like Chloe. While she was a hero, she didn’t let it run her life entirely. For him, it was everything. He still had Queen Industries, but being Green Arrow was his calling. Chloe helped and stood by her beliefs that justice was not being served and so needed help. But she didn’t live with the leather suit and secret identity hidden her front pocket. She was far less serious than him and could be the lightheartedness to his stoic persona.

He forced his mind back to the mission ahead, trying to keep his eyes off of Chloe as she threw her head back in a laugh. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glimmering with excitement. Across from her, Dean was smiling in a way that clearly said he was enthralled by her. He told himself that he knew whoever she met, she’d always love him, but the jealousy that sparked at seeing this man who likely had a great deal in common with her, watching her as if she was someone who could seriously turn his head, he found he was a little less able to mask his feelings.

Later that night, sometime after midnight, Chloe grew tired and they all left the bar, making their way back to the Hotel. He and his wife went to their own room, waving goodbye to the brothers they’d be seeing the next day to work together on the case involved. Too sleepy to even dress, Chloe simply stripped off the majority of her clothes and climbed into bed, snuggling up to him and falling asleep. He stayed awake awhile, deep in thought. His finger ran through her hair, stroking the side of her face as he wondered if she felt anything while Dean told his stories and understood her background in the weird.

He felt into a fitful sleep sometime around four.

* * *

The next afternoon, Sam Winchester was looking at his brother like he’d grown another head.

 

Not so far away, the Queens and a couple other Justice League members were deep in conversation. Oliver had called in reinforcements just to be safe and was filling them in on the case.

Dean was watching Chloe with a lifted brow and interested gaze. His mouth was tugged up with a smirk.

“She’s really not your type, Dean,” Sam warned.

His brother turned to him with an abrupt laugh. “Are you kidding? Dude, she’s perfect. She loves the weird and she fights for just what we do.”

Sam stared at him like he was an idiot, his eyes thinned and his mouth turned in a frown. “She’s  _married_.”

His lip curled. “Ah, it’s just a small problem,” he said, waving his hand nonchalantly.

Sam’s eyes bugged and he forced his hand down from nearly reaching out to slap Dean in the back of the head. “Do you even know who she’s married to?” He lifted a brow. “Oliver Queen! Billionaire.”

“Trust fund baby, huh? Pfft.” He crossed his arms over his chest, shooting a dirty look at Oliver Queen who was talking to his group.

Sam rolled his eyes. “He’s the founder of the JLA.” His words came out slow, as if he trying to spark a memory.

Dean cocked a brow questioningly.

“Justice League of America!” he half-shouted, shaking his head. “He’s the Green Arrow, Dean.”

“So what?” he asked, looking bored.

“So not only could he make you disappear, all on his own, but he also has the most powerful superheroes at his disposal.”

Dean rolled his eyes, snickering. “I’ve killed demons, Sammy. You think superheroes in tights are going to be a problem?”

“I don’t wear tights. That’s Superman. I prefer leather,” Oliver’s voice cut in and Dean turned around to see the 6’4 frame of the muscular hero staring down at him.

“Leather, huh? Ya don’t feel stifled,” he asked with a snicker.

Oliver gave an amused smirk. “You’d be surprised.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to have a suit made up for me pronto,” he muttered sarcastically.

Sam turned his eyes up in exasperation.

“I’ll talk to my designer; see what he can do for you.” Oliver crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you and Chloe seemed to get along well.”

Dean’s eyes moved over to the beautiful blonde talking animatedly with a younger man across the parking lot and he sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Yeah. Quite the catch you’ve got there.”

“I’m aware,” Oliver said, nodding.

Dean turned to him, eyes hard and posture becoming defiant. “You gonna tell me to back off?”

Oliver’s brow lifted. “Do I need to?” It was obvious, at least to Sam, that Oliver wasn’t going to simply back down. When it came to his wife, he stood his ground. It was rare for someone to challenge Dean and actually look like he could come out the victor. Sam knew Queen’s background though and while he had confidence in his brother, he figured it’d be a toss up at who would win. And in the end, he was sure that Oliver would walk away with the girl. He’d staked his claim and nobody was going to change that.

Dean didn’t say something, weighing over the topic at hand. Sam had to admit that for someone like Dean, meeting somebody like Chloe was probably a surprising relief. Witty, a little crazy, understanding of their line of work, and beautiful. While women turned his head, often, they rarely turned his heart. But Chloe wasn’t his to love and Sam wondered whether his brother would respect that or try and interfere.

Finally, Chloe broke his concentration as she appeared beside her husband, her arm wrapping around his, hand reaching up to splay over his stomach. “You boys getting along?” she wondered, though her tone was teasing as she obviously had no idea that a pissing contest was currently being held.

Oliver grinned at her, lifting his hand to brush her bangs from her eyes, stroking her cheek. “You know me…”

She shook her head slightly before turning toward Dean. “He’s not intimidating you, is he? He may look sexy in green leather, but it makes him cockier than usual.”

Dean half-smiled, shaking his head. “No worries.” He lifted his gaze, meeting Oliver’s. “You’ve got a good guy.”

Chloe smiled. “Yeah, he’s a catch when he wants to be.”

Oliver’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, thumb stroking her arm.

Sam got the feeling that a bullet had just been dodged and, for once in his life, Dean had admitted defeat.

He could understand why. While Oliver Queen seemed a little put off by the obvious connection between his wife and Dean, he couldn’t see just how devote his wife was to him. Just the way she was leaning into him, her eyes staring up at him like he’d created world peace was enough to tell Sam that she wasn’t about to stray. Even if she found a familiarity in Dean, it was obvious Oliver was her number one.

“Well,” Dean said, clapping his hands together. “You guys ready to kick some demon ass or what?”

Sam smiled, shaking his head.

Oliver smirked. “Born ready.”

Dean nodded, glancing at Chloe with a grin. “This is gonna be fun!”

Sam sighed, following after his brother and the Justice League. He had a feeling he’d be seeing a lot more of the superheroes in future. He wasn’t complaining. The world needed all the help it could get. And with Oliver Queen and his League of justice on the lookout, he was sure that it would get a good dose. There was no such thing as a crowd when it came to saving the world.


	126. The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe and Oliver's first kiss.

They’d been searching for days, possibly even weeks. She wasn’t sure; she’d lost track of time early on. She couldn’t remember having a full night’s sleep in too long. She and Oliver were surrounded by boxes and papers and codes all over the place. They needed to find a certain 33.1 lab and the location was right there in front of them, it just wasn’t clicking. The rest of the team was out working in various places around the states while they worked from the comfort of his apartment. She loved coffee, but if she had much more she’d grow to resent it. Her eyes stung and her face felt stiff. She wanted nothing more than to jump into a shower and then take a nice long nap. It didn’t help that her concentration was constantly being swayed toward Oliver. Did he have to look so good? She felt sweaty and smelly and beyond exhaustion while he still looked like he just stepped out of a spa. Sure he had a little scruff around his jaw, but it suited him in a way that all too sexy.

For too long she’d harbored a small crush on her boss and she knew she should forget all about it. He was Lois’ ex, not to mention the leader of the JLA; she really couldn’t get involved with him. If Lois didn’t kill her, Clark would have her head. There were just some people that were basically off limits and Oliver was one of them. Clark didn’t like the idea of them working together; seeing it as another reason for her to be targeted. What would he think if their friendship went into the romantic scheme of things?

She bit her lip, mind wandering slightly. She wondered what it’d be like… He was handsome and charming and level headed without being too serious. He knew how to have a good time, but he also knew when it was time to put the fun away. He went out of his way to do good for the world and she’d only really known that characteristic in a few people, one of which was still unwilling to let his power truly help the world around him. Oliver was a normal, red-blooded man who could get hurt or die like any other. He didn’t have any powers that could help him in the long run and perhaps that made his position as leader all the more an accomplishment.

“You thirsty?” she head him ask and glanced up at him as he lifted a brow at her. She simply nodded and he walked off into the kitchen to get them refreshments.

He’d long ago traded his usual suit for some comfortable sweats and a ratty t-shirt that she was sure had seen better days. With how long she’d been at his apartment, it amazed her he wasn’t sick of her being around. He had to leave on occasion for business calls, but he always got right back to work. If she’d been left alone to work it all through, it would’ve taken months so she was glad for the help. The rest of the JL boys had wanted to be there but she was pretty sure they’d get in the way and they had much better things to be doing. She loved them, but they weren’t the most organized bunch.

Passed down to her as Oliver returned was a steaming cup of… Hot chocolate? She looked up at him curiously.

“Figured you might get a little tired of coffee,” he said with a small grin.

Her mouth twitched up with smile and she sipped the delicious drink, licking her lips of the whip cream he’d topped it off with.

He was right back to work, a furrow at his brow and a frown on his mouth. It was his serious, working expression, she’d come to know. Sometimes, she wanted to just reach out and smooth the wrinkle from his forehead, but she knew better than to do that. It was far too intimate; it crossed the boundary of coworkers or even friends. He looked so pensive, sitting across from her, deep in thought as he perused the documents in front of him.

She sipped her hot chocolate and picked up another scrap of paper, hoping to lose herself in the information so not to think of how utterly adorable he could look sometimes. His hair was slightly tousled from when he fell asleep a few hours prior, wrinkling the papers beneath him. She let him nap, but he woke up abruptly and shook his head, getting back to work and apologizing. Every once and a while he’d yawn and then he’d shake his head, his nose scrunching up slightly. When she started to wonder if had he a child, it would do the same, she immediately turned her gaze away from him.

It was far too easy to fall for a guy like him. But she knew she was the kind of girl that he wouldn’t fall for back. He was reserved for the Lois Lane’s and Dinah Lance’s of the world, while the Chloe Sullivan’s got stuck with the likes of Jimmy Olsen, who she’d noticed last week was officially dating Kara. She sighed, biting her lip. Just her lot in life, she guessed. Even a farm boy like Clark Kent fell for the Lana Lang’s of the world. Where was she on the scale, she wondered. She was smart, resourceful, pretty (if she did say so herself), loyal, and maybe a little bit danger prone. She wasn’t exotically beautiful like Lana, or statuesque like Lois. But she was… curvy and petite and rather pixie-like. Sort of. Maybe. Right? She had a certain something. She frowned, brows wrinkling. Maybe she was destined to attract meteor freaks and the like forever. After all, she was one herself.

It was seven in the morning and she could barely keep her eyes open. Three quarters of their paperwork had been read and put away, the other quarter sat between them. Their knees were nearly brushing, she noticed. They sat face to face. Well, sort of. They were both leaned backwards against the couch in her case and an arm chair in his. Her back ached from sitting so long, but she wasn’t about to give up yet. Finally, when it seemed all hope was lost, her eyes zeroed in on something and then the wheels started turning rapidly in her head. Her eyes widened and she sat up abruptly. “I got it,” she whispered, eyes re-reading the document.

“What?” Oliver asked, raising his eyes from his document to look over at her.

Damn did he ever look hot with that shadow of whiskers. She shook her head. _Focus!_ “I found it,” she told him, smiling.

He grinned at her hopefully and she showed him the paper, explaining rapidly her thought process. He nodded along with her rambling, brow furrowed and mouth pursed and then he was looking up at her. And before she could really say anything, he had leaned across and kissed her. Not a peck on the cheek or anything even remotely chaste. Full on the lips, hands cupping her cheeks, tongue tangling with hers, hot and heavy, most thorough kiss she’d ever had in her life. She was breathless, a little warm all over and more lightheaded than she had been just from sleep deprivation. Instead of pulling back entirely and going back to work, he separated only slightly and then placed a few small lingering kisses against her lips; soft and tender and entirely too addictive. Her eyes fell shut and she was sure she melted on the spot. It was the best thank you in history.

She was kissing Oliver Queen. She inwardly cheered. In your face Lois Lane’s, Kara’s, Lana Lang’s, and Dinah Lance’s of the world, Chloe Sullivan just snagged the perfect male specimen. She’d listen to him congratulate her on her fantastic find later, for now she was going to enjoy the moment for what it was. Wrapping her arms around his neck and lifting up on to her knees, she kissed him back with equal if not more fervor. His hands slid down from her cheeks to cradle her back, fingers digging in around her hips, drawing her body up against his. He tasted like hot chocolate and spearmint gum, something he’d taken to chewing a few hours earlier to try and keep himself awake. His whiskered jaw tickled the skin of her chin and she giggled slightly into his parted mouth, her eyes opening slightly as she felt him grin into the kiss.

When they finally parted, air a necessity, he still held her close. He brushed her bangs from her face, tucking them behind her ear. Their tips of their noses touched as he locked eyes with her. “When we’ve both had some sleep and desire coffee again, I’d like to take you to this nice bistro down the street,” he offered, smiling lightly.

“It’s a date,” she said before leaning forward to kiss him once more.

She’d gladly do it all over again as long as it ended the same. It was more than worth the sleep deprivation and coffee overload as long as he kept kissing her like he was now.


	127. Up in the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn't take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #6 - Alone

The phone was ringing. _Again_. It couldn't go to voicemail though, that was too full. His cell phone rang after the home phone stopped, he ignored it too. Stared out at the expanse of black that was the sky. It wasn't like in Star City where the bright glittering stars could fill up seemingly every inch of your sight. Here, in Metropolis, it was much too bright to see anything but skyscrapers and gleaming billboards. The air was cold; he should probably go inside. He was a mere mortal, so unlike Clark Kent or a few of the other superheroes he knew, he could very well die of hypothermia. He didn't care though, barely felt it. Barely felt anything.

He didn't know how long he sat there; all he knew was that he was alone. Once upon a time, the apartment was filled with _her_ voice. So beautiful; musical almost. Or maybe he only _thought_ that. Now that it was gone, everything seemed far too quiet. Where was the laughter or the snarky comebacks that always sat at the end of her pink tongue? Buried six feet under now. In a casket made of the finest wood and softest green silk.

His heart clenched as he allowed himself to think about her; to let her face reenter his blurred, burning eyes, her smile to burn its place in his heart once more. He tried to be stoic; he tried not to show how much it hurt. But God, it _did!_ It burned and ached and everything felt so empty; his body, his mind, his heart. He'd roll over in his bed, reaching for her only to find she was never there. Every morning he woke up, he made her a cup of coffee only to realize she'd never drink it. Three days he'd been doing this and each day was harder than the last. Her arms didn't wrap around him as the water of the shower poured down on him. Her slick, naked body never fit against his like it did every morning before.

He called her cell this afternoon. Got her machine and realized a second later that she'd never get the message. She'd never answer her phone. She was gone. Seemed that power of hers had to give out sometime. She couldn't keep giving her life and never pay the consequences. One time too many... He knew he shouldn't, but he hated whoever she saved. He hated them with a loathing that made his entire body burn. He wanted to kill them all over again and hope that by some miracle _she_ came back.

He let his eyes close, inhaled the cold air around him and held it. Some part of him wanted to die right then and though he knew if anything, he'd just pass out from lack of air and in his unconsciousness his body would breathe for him, he held on until he was dizzy, until the ache in his chest wasn't from missing her but air itself. And he figured that fit somehow, because to him she was his air. And now he didn't know how to breathe or how to live or whether he even could.

Years ago, he would've said that love could never be so strong. It couldn't make a person feel so lost and alone that they could invert themselves so much they didn't even feel like they were really there. And then Chloe Sullivan grinned at him one day and he realized that he really loved that smile. And one afternoon her eyes seemed to glitter and he decided that there was a whole new reason green was his favorite color. The first night he ever made love to her, he swore he'd never touch another woman again, that he _couldn't_ touch another woman again. There was something about those curves of hers that made him feel like he'd been searching for her along. That his hands were meant to grip her hips and his chest was meant to press against hers, those soft, firm breasts of hers rubbing against him.

He loved best when she was absolutely naked; not a stitch of clothing in sight. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen in his life; all creamy white flesh, beauty marks spattering her. He could spend hours using his fingers to create pictures out of those.

_"What are you doing?" she asked, tone amused as she looked at him over her shoulder. She laid comfortably on her stomach, her clothes tossed somewhere on the floor hours ago._

_He was leaning over her, tracing the many brown beauty marks along her back, creating words and shapes and scribbles of nothing and everything all over her skin. "What do you think I'm doing?" he replied, grinning._

_She rolled her eyes but her mouth quirked with a smile._

_He leaned down, pressed a kiss to her spine and then up along her shoulder blades. "Right here," he whispered as if it was their secret. He ran his finger around in a weird shape she could only feel and not see. "That's the constellation Sagittarius."_

_"The Archer," she murmured._

_He smirked, spreading his palm out along her back before gliding it down her body._

_She rolled over, arm lifting to wrap around his neck. "Do you think that means I'm yours?" she wondered softly. "Marked from birth." She smiled. "Fate."_

_"I don't know." He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a long, drawn out kiss. When they parted, they were both breathless with half-lidded eyes, glazed with passion. "But I'm keeping you anyway."_

_She laughed before arching up into him and capturing his mouth once more._

They were together two years before he asked her to marry him and six months later she was Chloe Ann Queen. It wasn't easy; their job wasn't what he'd call a walk in the park. Add to that his responsibilities with Queen Industries and hers with Isis and they had a hectic schedule. But it helped that every night he came home to her, to find her in their bed, almost never wearing clothes, looking like a beautiful pixie, waiting for him to show her just how much he missed her, how much he loved her. He'd strip down to nothing, his work clothes or his Green Arrow gear tossed aside as he crawled in between the sheets to draw her body up against his. She'd stir, give a small sigh and then wrap herself in his arms, kissing his chest as her own welcome home. But he'd never have that again.

He opened his eyes once more, glared at the black sky and wished he was back in Star City, away from the place where his wife had lost her life for yet another victim. Where he could wallow in the comfort of their bedroom, where it felt more like her, like _them_. Here, it lacked the warmth... It lacked the homey feeling. It felt dreary and cold; lonely.

He felt the tear slip from his eye but didn't bother wiping it away. It was one of many; many already shed and many to come.

He wondered when somebody would show up with an uplifting speech. The "You're strong, Oliver, you can get through this." Or the "I know you loved her, we all did, but she wouldn't want you to do this..." He didn't want to hear them. If her best friend wasn't a superpowered alien that could tear through anything no matter how many locks he enforced it with, he'd lock everybody out and die in peace. Instead, he stayed in his lone chair, staring at the starless sky, wishing he had his Sagittarius beauty.

"Daddy?" came the soft voice behind him, followed by the soft patter of feet.

He turned to look at the tiny vision of Chloe staring up at him with her mother's eyes. He swallowed tightly. "What're you doing up, munchkin?" he asked, voice scratchy with a lack of use.

She didn't answer, instead climbing up into his lap and resting her head on his shoulder. She played with the buttons on his shirt, just like she used to when she was a baby. He didn't hear her crying but he felt the tears seep through his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her, ran his hand up and down her back. "Mommy's not coming back... Is she?"

His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes. "No, Hannah. She's not."

She sniffled, cuddling up against him tighter. "Daddy?" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"You aren't gonna leave me too, are you?" She sounded so scared.

His heart clenched. "Never," he breathed, resting his head against hers. "You know your mom, if she had the choice she would've stayed with us forever."

"Forever and ever?"

"And ever and ever and ever."

She nodded, wrapping her small arms around him. "What do we do?" she wondered.

He'd wondered the same thing. "We live how mommy would've wanted us to," he replied.

"I think she would've wanted me to make you hot chocky," she murmured. "She always made hot chocky when we was cold!"

"How ‘bout _I_ make _you_ hot chocolate?" he suggested.

She nodded, her soft blonde hair rubbing against his whiskered cheek. "But you gotta put marshemellies in it! ‘Cause mommy said that's what makes the shivers go away!"

He tried to smile, remembering how his wife always said the same thing to their daughter when she made up her homemade hot chocolate for everybody. "I know, baby."

He glanced once more, up at the night sky with resolve. And he was sure he caught sight of just one star, blinking brightly high above, watching over. He climbed out of the chair, holding his daughter tight in his arms and he hoped Chloe knew that he'd love her forever but as alone as he felt, he couldn't be with her now. Not for many, many years, when his daughter was old enough to let him go. When it was finally his time; and then he'd join her. Up in the stars.


	128. People We No Longer Are or Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davis goes to see the woman he's been far too entranced with the last few months only to find that she's with another, someone he hopes will love her like he knows he can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : #011 - Intimacy

He wasn't sure why but after driving past the building that housed ISIS, he found himself pulling over to the side and staring up at the lit window where her office sat. It was late and he had no real excuse for coming by but he wanted to see her, _needed_ to see her; like some primal urge had forced him to stop. He shook off the feeling, climbed out of his truck and crossed the street to the building. It just so happened that somebody was exiting as he approached and left the door open for him to go in. He was sure it had to do with the paramedics jacket he wore otherwise they probably would've let it close behind them. He gave a curt smile before making his way to the elevator, anxiousness building up in his stomach. Some part of him wanted to see her because he liked her; she was a good friend, a beautiful woman, she intrigued him. While another part, a much darker part, wanted something else. He wasn't sure of its intentions but it had him drawn more and more to the brilliant and stunning blonde that was obviously working late yet again.

As the elevator stopped at her floor, he climbed off silently, walking down the hallway slowly, eyes scanning the area. There was something tingling down his spine; awareness of some kind. A rage flowing deep inside his body as if he knew what to expect as he drew closer and closer to the door of her office which was cracked open a few inches. He'd been patient these last seven months. After her engagement to Jimmy Olsen, of whom he'd only met once, fell through, Davis had thought to leave her be, let her get over it before he stepped in and offered to be the man in her life. She'd woken something up inside him the second he first saw her, rushing to the aid of a stranger, just trying to help. That smile of hers, the glint in her eye, there was something about Chloe Sullivan that Davis Bloome admired, wanted, _needed_.

But all the same, he wasn't sure he was what she wanted. Sure, she'd been friendly, and in those first few weeks she'd shown an attraction to him that was unmistakable. When he found out that she'd broken it off with Olsen, he'd been ecstatic, even if he did show due remorse for her when she admitted it to him over coffee. But since then her attraction had dimmed, she looked at him now more as a friend, a confidant, and he didn't want it that way. Sure he liked that she could share secrets with him that she hadn't with anyone else, but what use was that when her eyes no longer lingered on his, her breath no longer hitched when they stood close. Those feelings had moved on, had left him behind and found another, and they were much stronger than they'd ever been during her fleeting desire for him.

He'd seen the way she seemed to lean into _him_. He'd breeze through her office door, a large grin already curving his mouth, and Chloe would practically leap from her desk and her work to greet him, her arms out as if she hadn't seen him in ages and demanded a hug; one that would last much longer than between two platonic friends. And while Davis knew of _his_ reputation, _he_ didn't appear to be acting the same way when it came to Chloe. Davis still wondered why it was that a billionaire like Oliver Queen would have any ties to someone like Chloe; it was one secret she never shared. She simply shrugged it off as "My cousin dated him..." as if that explained it all when really it left even more questions.

Since that fateful night that Davis had arrived at ISIS to find Queen near death and Chloe searching all avenues to save him, things changed. She broke up with Jimmy shortly after, her and Clark had formed a rift of some sort, and Oliver was around more and more, finding sanctuary in the office he'd nearly taken his last breath in. He was, to all appearances, the leaning post in which Chloe warmed to after ending it all with Jimmy. And Oliver didn't appear to sway in his ability to help her through; if anything he wanted it. It was obvious that what he wanted, _who_ he wanted, was just the same as Davis. The only difference was that Oliver might actually have a chance...

As he approached the door, feet hesitant, heart hammering, palms sweaty, and a dark flow of possessive rage encompassing him, Davis nearly turned around and fled. He wasn't sure what might come of any knowledge he sought behind the doors of ISIS, where his most desired likely was. But he didn't back down, didn't answer the pleading voice that had been long dulled by the growl that filled his ears. Instead, he finally came to a stop in front of the door and his brows rose only a fraction as he witnessed what some part of him knew would be there.

Laying across the same settee that Oliver had occupied during his near-death poisoning, was Chloe Sullivan, her head thrown back, eyes half-closed, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Her mouth was curved in a smile as she chewed her lip and made little noses of encouragement from the back of her throat, all the while leaning into the hungry mouth that feasted across her neck diligently. Oliver's large body lay atop hers, his hands holding her hips, rocking them into his own as her knees were spread apart, feet planted on the settee, holding him comfortably between the part of her thighs. His shirt was open and his bare stomach pressed against the bunched up fabric of her skirt. Her blouse was unbuttoned, the silk shoulders falling down with each movement, her back sliding up and down the fabric of the settee with each rock of his and her hips together.

He should go, he knew that, before the rage inside him built to unstoppable heights. But he couldn't force his feet away and his ears searched for those sounds of hers, those deep, low, keening noises she made. She was flushed and beautiful and arching into each touch and kiss as if it were her salvation. It obviously wasn't their first time together; the intimacy between them was so fluid, so natural, so _strong_. Her hair was a mess, no longer coiffed professionally, and her green silk blouse was wrinkled, tugged free of her black pencil skirt. Her heels had been kicked and her pantyhose lay forgotten on the floor in a small heap next to Oliver's tossed away belt.

"More comfortable than the desk, Sidekick?" Oliver's husky voice murmured against her neck. So quiet and yet so loud in the silence of the room, filled only with her panting breaths, her encouraging moans and the rustle of clothing brushing together.

"Much," she replied throatily, eyes fluttering closed as he nibbled her neck.

Oliver's hands slid up her waist, cupped her breasts briefly atop the blouse before reaching her shoulders.

She hissed softly, letting out a small laugh. "Cold."

His fingers curled around the neckline of her blouse. "Better warm them up." He drew her blouse down and her shoulders shrugged to help, her back arching up as he slid it lower until he could pull her blouse out from beneath her and let it fall to the floor. He spread his hands out across her shoulders, massing them and stroking her neck as he kissed along her jaw and beneath her ear. He warmed his hands up while exciting her skin. He rested his chin on her shoulder as he let his hands slide lower, his palms grazing the tops of her breasts before he took the strap on each side of her bra between his thumb and forefinger, tugging them down. She lifted her arms out of the loops and then settled them around Oliver's shoulders, one of her hands buried in his hair. With easy-maneuvering Oliver snaked a hand beneath her and popped the clasp on her bra, smirking as the fabric fell loose around her breasts.

Davis swallowed tightly, shifting side to side, his inner-voice screaming at him now to leave. But he couldn't take his eyes off her, couldn't draw them away from the pert, pale breasts encased in green lace before her bra was finally drawn away, revealing perfection to the two sets of male eyes gazing on adoringly.

Unlike Davis, Oliver could touch and taste and revel in the beauty of Chloe's nakedness. His mouth pressed heated kisses against her flesh, circling her nipple teasingly, his tongue and teeth joining in but always ignoring the pebbled pink center that sat waiting for his attention. His hand palmed the other, thumb stroking her nipple, fingers kneading her flesh. She keened and arched and gasped for air as his skittered over her nipple warmly, his nose gently brushing against it.

"Please," she whimpered, tugging his hair. "Ollie."

The name, said so reverently with such affection and desire, was not his own, Davis realized quite darkly. A pang in his chest, the rage petering out on sheer sadness alone. The woman he'd found so many months ago, that caught his eye like no other, had captured his attention in ways women rarely did anymore, not since the blackouts and the fiery rage that consumed him so often. That woman was long gone, that woman had been looking for an outlet when her engagement seemed to be the wrong path taken. That woman had let go of him the same day she let go of Jimmy Olsen. And this woman here, whose shoulders fell loosened, head rolled back and forth, eyes closed tight, chewing her lip with pained ecstasy as Oliver Queen wrapped his lips around her nipple, flicking it delicately with his tongue, this woman was not _his_.

Her hands pushed his expensive tailored dress shirt down _Oliver_ 's shoulders, fingers gripping his back and biting into his skin. She rocked up against him passionately, wanting and needing more of him. One of her hands fell to the front of his pants, undid the button and lowered the zipper quickly before sliding in, cupping him, stroking strongly. She was still just as beautiful as the woman Davis once had a chance with, just as brilliant and kind and amazing as he'd known her to be. But she was not the woman who would look at him like she did Oliver. She would never whisper or whimper or plead his name like she did Oliver Queen's. And Davis knew that if he were ever to be given the chance to possess her like he'd needed so much lately, the way he said her name, the way he held her hips, how he slanted his mouth across hers for a kiss, would be harsher, more demanding, as if he were out to own her rather than enjoy the pleasures of such intimacy. He was not Oliver Queen; he did not have the same hands that now pushed her skirt up higher, stroked along the damp front of Chloe's panties, readying her when he plunged deep inside and filled for mutual satisfaction.

The Davis Bloome that may have once been like that, that may have resembled such tender passion was long gone, replaced by the darkness that permeated his being; that was implanted deep inside, waiting to fully come out and create havoc in ways he couldn't yet imagine. And he knew now, as he stood watching the way they entwined, with hands and legs and lips and bodies, that the man he was months ago would never be again and the woman he thought could possibly be his salvation had turned her heart to someone more worthy, more equipped for her. He'd blinded himself to the idea that if he just had her, the dark voice would go away; the cruel urges would fade. But he knew now that he could only tarnish the beautiful soul he loved her for. And the man that held her now, that whispered his love against her lips reverently, he would be who Chloe needed. He would love her the way Davis wished he could but didn't have inside him.

With that, he turned, he left the idealisms that laid there behind and he walked crisply toward the elevator. What scared him most was not that he was once again alone in the world, that he'd lost the only link he had to any sort of better life, but that with each step, he felt the tiny voice calling out for him to save himself slowly die, and the cruel dark laughter, the voice that spoke of unforgiveable tortures, grew louder. Maybe it was time that he accepted his destiny; for the one he had hoped for was now meant for another man. He only hoped that Oliver Queen had it in him to keep his precious Chloe safe, because Davis understood now the vicious outcome of this... doom's day was within sight and while the majority of him was consumed with rage and hatred, some small part of him hoped it wouldn't come to touch Chloe. And before that tiny flicker or goodness in him finally went out, it sent up a silent prayer that Chloe had found the right man for her, the man that would do everything in his power to keep her safe from what was coming. Because he dearly hoped she wouldn't perish like so many would in the face of his wrath. As he stepped on the elevator, the Davis Bloome she knew was no more. God have mercy on who was first to find that out.


	129. Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wouldn't let this become a catalyst in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt** : (1) #021 - Confidence and "Chloe have you seen my..." by lilmoochie | (2) heal by anonymous

Chloe Sullivan was well known for her confidence, but still, she couldn't help but fidget slightly as she sat seductively on the bed wearing nothing but a green silk tie. Just that fact had her feeling warm between her thighs. He was walking around the apartment, searching, having no idea just what she had planned. She didn't want to jump to any sudden conclusions but it was rather obvious that they hadn't been making love or even having rough quickies ever since she had accidentally healed him when they'd been heavily involved on the couch three weeks prior. And she chose to let it go at first; there was much more to their relationship than sex. But he wasn't touching her, was barely kissing her and she knew it was because he was worried that he might have some cut somewhere, small as it may be, and that she'd take that pain from him unto herself. And she would. But she didn't want this to become a catalyst in their relationship. She wanted more; she wanted _them_ back. The 'them' that could spend all day and night in bed, doing nothing but exploring with hands and mouths, caressing and gripping and bringing each other to incredible peaks. She wanted the 'them' that could talk business mixed with flirting and natural banter. The 'them' that cuddled on the couch while watching surveillance videos of possible 33.1 warehouses. She just wanted 'them' back in the relationship.

She could hear him walking closer and she steeled her nerves, drawing her shoulders back, jutting out her breasts and lowering her lashes enough so that when she looked up at him, she'd be downright sinful. Some part of her still felt like laughing, and another part crying.

"Chloe, have you see my..." He trailed off, staring at her with wide, brown eyes. She watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed tightly. "Tie," he finished, voice low and gravely.

She tipped her head down, fingered the silk fabric between her breasts. "I think so," she murmured.

He fidgeted side to side, clearing his throat. "We don't have time to..." His eyes wandered her and his tongue licked his lips before her forced his gaze back to hers. "I really have to go..."

"So come get your tie," she told him, leaning back on her arms.

"Chloe..."

She lifted a challenging brow.

Clenching her jaw, he crossed the room slowly. Each step bolstered her confidence and she reminded herself that this was nothing to be ashamed or worried over. She'd done something similar to this a thousand times before. Welcomed him home in green lace negligees, positioned herself on the desk in front of the elevator so the first thing he'd seen when he arrived was her parted and naked thighs, woke him up by straddling him in absolutely nothing... So this... This was just like all those times. Except that in those moments, he'd gathered her up into his arm's without pause rather than cautiously approaching her from afar.

He had to kneel on the bed to reach her and his hand shook as it reached forward, forefinger helplessly trailing down the center of his tie for a second, the back of his hand brushing the curve of her breasts. She bit her lip, staring at him, watching how his jaw twitched and his breathing picked up. Slowly, he began undoing the tie from around her neck, his knuckles sliding against her chest with each movement.

"When are you just going to let yourself go?" she murmured quietly.

"Letting go could mean putting you, me, _us_ in danger." His brow furrowed, eyes set on the knot of his tie.

She covered his hands with hers, stilling them. "We're in danger now, Ollie." She shook her head. "I want you and I know you want me... We can't be happy together if we're always holding back..." She smiled sadly. "I can't control my ability and if you're hurt, I _want_ to help you... But I can't live like this. Waiting for you, wanting you, with you always being so skittish, I... I love you too much for that."

He looked up at her, strained. "You know I love you, I just don't like the idea of you taking on my pain for me..."

"I'm hurting right now and it has _nothing_ to do with that." She stared at him seriously. "Now _touch_ me... or this is going to have to end."

He stared at the tie a moment, stroking his thumb across it and then finally caught her eyes. "I've been acting like a jerk lately..."

Her confidence filled her to the brim as she smirked. "And now you can make up for it."

His mouth quirked before he cupped her neck and drew her forward, capturing her mouth with his before he laid her back on the bed and climbed between her parted legs. His lips diligently made apologies as they slid across hers, over and over, tongue tangling, teeth nibbling. When they broke apart, she could feel his breath panting against her chin. "Have I mentioned I love the outfit, Sidekick?"

Laughing, she wrapped her arms around him.


	130. Lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **prompt** : lust

When he took her on the floor after a mission, he told himself it was just lust.

When he screwed her until they were both hoarse with yelling, he assured himself it was just extremely intense lust.

When he spent an entire day with her in bed, sans clothing, phones off, world forgotten, he reaffirmed that it was only lust.

On the counters, on top of her desk, against the wall, inside his secret Arrow room, on the balcony chair, in front of the fire, pressed to the shower wall, rendezvousing on top of a building, sneaking away during a free moment, it was all the power of lust.

She was beautiful; right down to the hair-brained schemes her genius mind had to get into every building that so much as _looked_ suspicious. He loved how soft her hair was wrapped tight in his fingers, how silky her skin was beneath his traveling mouth and slick fingers. He could die a happy man, drowning in her sweet juices as he suckled her heat until she was nearly catatonic with pleasure. He had mapped out every inch of her body, could point out every beauty mark without a second thought. He knew what made her laugh, made her beg, what made her come within seconds. He delighted in every expressive look that passed her face when he touched her, whispered against her ear, caught her by surprise or stole her away.

But he wasn't meant to love her.

There were too many complications, too much danger. He wouldn't _let_ himself fall in love, especially not with her. She was too easy to love; too easy to fall for and never get up. She was so close to having him wrapped around her little finger already that he was treading on thin ground. He knew he should back off, cut their losses and end this thing they had. But then he'd smell her; that sweet scent of her body wash or her arousal still lingering in the air as they lay exhausted. And he couldn't walk away just yet. Just one more time; he told himself. Just one more kiss and one more touch and one more vivid moment in bed together. And then he'd be sated; that was all it would take.

Just once more.

But it was never really enough. And it never could be. It would always be _one more time_ and while he wouldn't admit to it, he couldn't stop himself. Because she was Chloe; his Watchtower, his secret lover. She who he lusted over day and night - never a break in routine - and could only have with his body, unable to let his heart loose. And she continued to accept what he gave, though he could tell with each caress and kiss that lust was not enough for her; as intense and erotic as their time was together, it couldn't be _only_ sex.

But it would have to do.


	131. Safety Personified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe Sullivan's life was never known for its abundance of safety, but she had at least one person who would always be there to keep her safe.

 

Chloe Sullivan's life was never known for its abundance of safety. In face, it was just the opposite. Throughout her years, she'd grown a grudging acceptance of the fact that there was little chance she would ever have the stability a normal person wanted and could rely on. Her life was full of superheroes and super-villains, and unfortunately it wasn't such a great balancing act. She'd been through more scrapes and near-death experiences than any one person should be allowed to boast about and some days, boasting was the last thing she wanted to do.

There were often moments where putting away the laptop and retiring to somewhere less hectic had crossed her mind. Where the opportunity to get into a job that didn't involve her neck always on or near the chopping block was not just a want but a _need_. And for a long time, she mused over what that might be like; over days when a phone ringing only meant somebody was calling to say hi, to trade the monotonous but normal dealings in either lives. She thought of opening emails just to catch up with old friends, not finding details and cryptic codes about drop offs or missions. She considered that life to be a fantasy in which she occasionally let herself take part in; during the dead of night or after a particularly harrowing day. With a humorless laugh she would remember that normal people might fantasize about the adventure in her life while she was wanting theirs.

But as these desires for normalcy began to fade and she accepted her life as it was, she realized that all her fantasizing was for naught. While she may not have a future filled with 2.5 children, a golden retriever, and a white picket fence, there were upsides. The super-villains were often subdued by her superheroes; life as others knew it would go on, the world would still spin, and she could take heart in knowing she played a large part in that. It wasn't until her close group of guys, her personal gang of good men out to strip the world of evil, had gone their separate ways, back to apartments or girlfriends or a fridge filled with all he could eat, that she could truly find her balance in her chaotic world.

Left in the watchtower, which was less hers and more shared now, there was only one person left at her side.

He smirked at her from the corner of her eyes and it was within moments that those shields were stripped from her. And that wasn't all he took. Crossing the room, mere minutes after the last of the group had left he dragged her top from her waist up, tossing it to the floor without a care. Next was her skirt, which he took great pleasure in slowly opening the back fly of before tugging it loose from her hips and letting it pool at her feet. Picking her up by her waist, he half-smiled as her heeled shoes slid from her feet with a slight kick and then set her down on the floor once more.

With a hand on his chest, she pushed him back an inch and then she was removing his green leather vest, teasingly lowering the zipper in a mirror of his own actions. And as he shrugged it away, her hands were slowly roaming down his hard, tanned chest; all firm muscles and taut flesh. Loosening the tie at his pants, she let her knuckles graze his hardened erection, waiting and wanting, and then tucked her thumps on either side of his lean hips, pushing the leather loose and down. She knelt, in just panties and a bra, undid his boots with practiced ease and it wasn't long before he was even more bare than her.

He wore nothing beneath his tight, confining pants, and so she was face-level with his obvious arousal. In all their time together, the sight of him never failed to make her lick her lips, a heat pooling between her thighs. Dark brown eyes stared down at her, firm lips pressed together as if to keep his control in tact. Long fingers tangled in her hair, tugged, encouraging her to stand once more. She did so, close enough that her breasts brushed tantalizingly against the head of his erection, feeling as it seemed to harden impossibly more. He shuddered, his jaw tensing, and then he smirked, enjoying the way she worked him. Large hands slid behind her back, nimble fingers unclasping her bra like the pro she knew he was. As it fell away, she shivered; the cool air of the room touched her breasts immediately, puckering her pale pink nipples and making her stomach clench in raw attention.

He didn't bother removing her panties; he rarely did. Instead, he tore the sides on each of her hips, let the dark lace fall to the floor and then drew her close. One might've expected they would immediately and with great vigor, screw each other's brains out. It wasn't unlikely. However, this time, and like many times in the past, she pulled her close and tucked her head against his shoulder. With her hand sliding up his chest to rest with her palm firm against his calming heartbeat, she smiled to herself. One arm wrapped around her back, hand splayed warm and comforting at her opposite shoulder, his other hand found purchase on her side, thumb tucked beneath the curve of her breast. His head fell just a few inches, cheek pressed to her forehead and she gave a low sigh of relief.

Here, in his arms, bare for only him to see, both metaphorically and physically, Chloe Sullivan found the safety and stability she'd always wanted. It wasn't in a reality she didn't know; it wasn't in a dream that others lived. Her life was dangerous; it was full of good guys and bad guys, plans gone awry and world-ending slip-ups. But at the end of the night, while everyone else went on unknowing, she could stand tall and certain in one man's embrace. He would hold her when she needed, pick her up when she fell, and he would love her through the good times and the bad. They were not perfect, not without their flaws, and to some they might even be unlikely. But he was hers and she was his and no matter the circumstances, the danger that came calling, it would stay that way.

Oliver Queen, Green Arrow in their tight-knit league of superheroes, was Chloe Sullivan's safety personified and there was simply nobody else better for the job.


	132. The Right Track

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's got a plan… but it's never that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **spoilers** : escape

 

He was anxious. When he proposed they go away on a three day weekend to a private B&B he'd had it all planned out. It'd been a few weeks since their first fight; not exactly something small or easily forgotten but they'd managed to get through it. So stealing from him wasn't the term she used, borrowing better fit she supposed, and while he'd been hurt initially, he also understood her thinking. It was as he thought it through without her there trying to explain herself that the whole picture came together. When they'd first gotten together it was meant to be a friends-with-benefits thing that would leave the emotions out of it. And he'd been fine with that as long as she was. But when he realized that she might be skimming funds from him, even _using_ him just for the money, he'd been really and truly hurt. It wasn't just the friendship that made his heart ache, but the trust between them that he'd found. The fact that she could so easily sleep with him and then _take_ from him had made him physically shake, a pang in his heart that was scarring.

He wouldn't have felt that way if there was nothing emotional between them.

It took weeks; of him examining, of her explaining, of them trying to keep what they had on steady ground.

"No more lies, no more secrets," he told her. Not so much a desire or a hope but a demand and while the stubborn and voracious Chloe Sullivan didn't usually fold, she did in this instance. And so a spark of hope was inspired; maybe there was more on her side too.

Making plans for them to stay at a Bed and Breakfast was his first move toward something more real. Friends-with-benefits didn't take vacations together in places where they actually had to involve themselves with something other than each other, naked and ready. Oliver wanted to give her an experience, though. He wanted to stay in a homey place where they were dressed down and comfortable with each other. Where there was no TV or League work to distract them and so they had to really and truly talk to each other. He wanted them to have breakfast together and take a hike in the promising woods pictured in the B&B website. He wanted for her to look at him, _really_ look at him, and see a man worth having more with.

Finding Lois and Clark there was the first hitch in his plan.

Knowing that he had to make nice, even _eat_ with them, wasn't exactly making him look forward to the rest of the trip.

In fact, at one point, he was even considering packing them up and moving them elsewhere. Until he realized the truth of the matter. It wasn't where they were or where they would go, it was simply that there would never be a time when they could be together and not have someone or something else intervene. That didn't mean they weren't going to fit. It was that they could get through that, that they would simply adapt themselves to the situation and continue on that would keep them together. So he didn't pack them up, he didn't choose to run away. Instead, he met it head on and faced the grimaced and unforgiving face of Clark Kent, obviously showing his disapproval over the pairing.

He grinned. Maybe this would be fun after all.

It wasn't. At least most of it wasn't.

Silver Banshee.

As if running into Lois and Clark when he and Chloe were meant to be getting closer wasn't bad enough, they had to find some screaming psychopath out to make him even more miserable.

Dealing with her in all her ghoulish looks and less than sane plans for him and Clark wasn't easy and in the end, he was tired. Sick and tired of having a life where work couldn't even give him a three-day weekend of respite.

On their last night, he walked into their room with heavy shoulders, slouched in defeat. Wearing only his navy blue and white plaid pajama pants and a grey t-shirt, he walked barefoot through their comfortable room, rubbing at a knot on the back of his neck. It wasn't until he saw her kneeling on the center of their double bed, atop the flowery blanket in the matching shirt to his pajama pants, her long tanned legs implying all kinds of delicious thoughts, that he paused for a moment. Stimulated by the mere thought of her in a bed, he considered ignoring the less than stellar weekend plans in favor of drowning in her. Her body, her scent, her soft touch and her blunt nails scoring his shoulders as he plunged deep inside her, settling firm against her warm, tight walls as she shivered and arched and cried his name desperately.

His eyes darkened with the thought, mouth going dry as he licked his lips.

"Uh-uh, Queen," she argued, cocking a brow. "Turn off that animalistic side of your brain for a second."

He smiled mirthlessly. "I thought that was your favorite part of my brain…"

She snorted. "It has its upsides," she agreed with a shrug. "But it wasn't that part that planned this little trip of ours."

While she stared at him knowingly and he tried to pretend he had no idea what she was talking about, he caved. "And just what is it you think I planned, Professor?" he asked, crossing the space between them to sit on the bed next to her.

With a half-smirk, she stared at him searchingly. "What happened to no-strings-attached, huh?" she wondered softly.

He blew out a heavy sigh, turning his eyes away from hers. "Maybe it never really existed for me," he said with a humorless smile.

Sliding a hand over his shoulder, she squeezed. "And you thought you could convert me over to the other side, hm?"

A hint of humor in her voice had him turning his head to stare at her. "Are we so unlikely, Sidekick?"

Her smile dimmed. "No…" She shook her head. "And maybe that makes it scarier."

Angling himself toward her, he frowned. "Our life is scary already, what's a little more gonna do?"

She sighed. "Ollie… One of the reasons we didn't make this any more than sex is because we had enough on our plate without adding a relationship."

"I know." Clenching his jaw, he shook his head. "But when we made that decision I expected anything more between us was doomed to fail."

Rolling her eyes, she pursed her lips. "It wasn't that long ago that we even got together…"

"It was long enough," he argued, his eyes falling to his lap.

There was a pause where she considered, where she could either ask or leave it. And finally, she wondered in her soft, curious voice, "Enough for what?"

A smile, sad, knowing, he didn't bother to hide the truth of it, from him or her. "For me to fall in love with you."

She stared, didn't say a word, and then she lifted a hand to his cheek. "Is that what you did?"

He leaned into her palm, into the comfort, safety, and warmth of her small hand. "It wasn't hard."

"And you thought taking me away for a few days would have me falling for that charm of yours?"

He laughed, lips quirking at the corners. "Apparently I was a little over-confident."

"Oh, I don't know… Maybe if Lois, Clark and the Silver Banshee hadn't intervened you might've been successful…"

He cocked a brow at her. "In only three days?"

She shrugged. "It might've helped that I was already pretty in love with you to begin with… Having three days alone might've just cinched it." She sighed in exaggeration. "Too bad that was ruined. We'll just have to go back to hot sex when nobody's looking."

He stared at her, brows furrowed, ignoring the humor she was trying to infuse. "So you… I didn't have to… You were already…"

"In love with you?" She grinned. "Maybe you're more charming than even _I_ could handle."

He turned then, just about lunged, had her on her back, beneath him, her leg hitched over his thigh and her arm around his back, fingers curled at his shoulders, where they would no doubt remain, digging in and marking down his skin in possessive love. She stared up at him, her blonde curls falling gently around her smiling face. Pelvis' pressed tight together, his shirt hitched up to her waist and her white panties quickly dampening as he lay hard between her thighs, his desire for her flaring quick and intense.

"You're sure?" he asked, suddenly worried that she could change her mind at any second.

Reaching up, she brushed her fingers through his hair. "For the most arrogant man I've ever know, you've got a few insecurity issues to work through…"

He frowned at her, cocking an impatient brow.

Sighing, she shook her head. "You think I tell just anybody I love them, Oliver?"

He stared at her, into those endlessly curious and mischievous green eyes, and for the first time he felt like he was seeing her truly bare. No walls or shields or useless restraints. She _loved_ him; maybe even as much and as deeply as he loved her.

"No more lies, no more secrets," she murmured. "So yeah, this is me laying it on the line."

His breath left him in a long, relieved sigh. And then he was kissing her; lips smoothing over her own, possessive, longing, _thankful_. She met him slant for slant, lips and tongue and teeth getting in on the action. Fingers curling tightly into his hair and dragging down his neck, she tugged on him as if he could get closer. He rocked his hips, pressed his insistent erection down against the heat between her parted thighs. It wasn't only about sex anymore, not now that their hearts were open and aware, but that didn't mean they couldn't still indulge in what got them to that point.

As they parted, panting, he stared down at her. "It's not gonna be easy… But I'm always going to be here… No matter what."

She smiled softly. "What in our lives has _ever_ been easy?"

He chuckled. "True."

She nodded. "You think you'd learn by now that I'm always right."

He grinned, brow lifting. "Really?"

"Mmhmm." Hand sliding back to his shoulder, she tilted her hips and shuddered pleasantly as he rubbed through her damp panties with just the right amount of pressure. Eyes fluttering, she murmured, "And given how right I always am, you'll know now is the best time to prove just how much you love me."

Chuckling under his breath, he nodded. "You always were the brains to my brawn, Sidekick…"

And with that, the friends-with-benefits became two lovers on the right track… finally.

 


	133. The Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing** : Chloe/Oliver, mentioned Chloe/Jimmy, Jimmy/Kara  
>  **Rating** : NC17  
>  **Warning(s)** : Sexual content, harsh language  
> 

Chloe Sullivan kept her last name when she got married. Unfortunately, along the way, she lost her dignity. Somewhere in between Clark and Lois marrying and Lois getting Chloe’s dream job, she ended up marrying Jimmy Olsen. He was goofy and nice and she figured he could make her happy. But he didn’t. Instead, he made Kara happy. He didn’t think she knew, but she did. She was a reporter for fucksakes, she knew when her own husband was stepping out on her. In her own bed, even. She shook her head, biting her lip and staring at the coffee table with blurry eyes. She didn’t know why she was here, but she was. No, wait, she did know why. There was nowhere else to go. She couldn’t go to Lois and Clark, face their perfect relationship only to tell them that her marriage was falling apart. She couldn’t stand in front of Pulitzer Prize winning Lois Lane-Kent and tell her she wasn’t enough for goofy photographer Jimmy. She just couldn’t. So she was sitting in her safe haven, the place she spent most of her time when escaping life. He sat next to her, waiting patiently for an explanation as to why she’d shown up at three in the morning, waking him up so he would sit on the couch while she sat in silence. She should’ve told him to go back to bed, that she’d just take the couch. He wouldn’t have gone, but the gesture probably would’ve been more appreciated.

“Chlo?” she heard, his voice so much deeper and more caring than Jimmy’s ever was.

She turned her eyes toward him, giving him a sad smile and blinking her eyes rapidly. “I failed,” she whispered.

His brown eyes clouded with confusion and his brows fused. “You? Failed? Impossible,” he said, smiling at her. He reached out, his hand wrapping around her shoulder, thumb stroking her arm. “What’s going on, Sidekick?”

She hastily away the tears that escaped down her cheek. He caught her hand before it could fall to her lap and his thumb ran over the space where her wedding ring should be. He lifted a questioning brow at her, his mouth set in a firm line. He always had been quick on the uptake.

“I took it off,” she murmured, her eyes staring down at her bare hand. She never really liked the way it looked anyway. Too gaudy for her taste with a tiny pink diamond that she didn’t feel fit her right.

“Why?” he asked, his voice rough as if he’d already figured it out.

She took a deep breath, letting it out in a shaky sigh. “Kara makes a better bedmate, I guess.” She shrugged. “Didn’t feel right when I found out.” She shook her head, biting her lip. “To keep wearing the ring that’s supposed to signify our love…” She snorted, laughing bitterly before she lifted her gaze to him. “I can’t remember the last time I told him I loved him and really meant it.” She wiped at her face once more as tears fell and sat back against the couch. “I can’t remember what it feels to be loved.”

Oliver’s expression turned dark. “How long?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe all along, I dunno. I knew he had feelings for her while we were dating. I assumed he’d put those aside when we got married.” She cocked a brow. “Stupid, huh?”

He shook his head, taking her hand in his. “You’re never stupid, Chloe. Just…” He sighed. “You just wanted to love and be loved. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She sniffled, closing her eyes up tight to push the tears back. “I can’t leave him,” she whispered brokenly.

“Why?” he asked patiently.

This was why she went to him, she supposed. He was the rock that Clark didn’t provide anymore. While he was off with Lois, living life to the fullest, she’d been falling apart and Oliver’s arms had been there to catch her. She spent more time in his apartment playing Watchtower than she needed to and he knew it. But he never pressured her into explaining why and he never kicked her out. They’d grown to be good friends. Maybe he was even her best friend at this point. Life had gone on without her; she was still stuck in the Daily Planet basement writing obituaries while unknowingly behind the scenes of the biggest League of superheroes out there. She had a husband that was straying with a gorgeous alien and a best friend that married her cousin, who was now living out the life she’d dreamed of having since she was just a little kid. And what did she have for all of her loyal years playing sidekick? A crappy job that no longer made her feel exhilarated, an absent best friend and cousin, a jackass of a husband and tears that just wouldn’t stop.

“I’m so tired of losing out,” she told him, looking up at him with sad eyes. “I don’t have my journalism anymore.” She frowned. “I don’t even have the sidekick label anymore, if I want to be honest. I haven’t seen Clark in two months.” Her voice cracked at the end. She shook her head, her blonde hair rushing around her shoulders. “And maybe he does love me. Maybe Kara is just…” She closed her eyes, clenching her teeth. “Who am I kidding, right?”

“Hey,” he said, slightly chastising as he rubbed her palm with his thumb. “You’re better than you know.” He smiled at her, his dark eyes honest. “Jimmy doesn’t know how lucky he is. Was.” He licked his lips. “You can’t live this life, Chloe. You don’t _deserve_ to live this life.”

“What do I deserve?” she wondered, lifting a brow. “Because it seems like all I ever get is hurt.”

He tugged her forward and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She buried her head against his shoulder and clutched at his shirt. It had always been Clark holding her in her weak moments, but she found the strength of Oliver’s arms wrapped around her and the stability in his shoulder was far more comforting. He wasn’t going to run out on her any minute from now. Not for some girl or a reason he couldn’t explain. He was there and he smelled really good. She smiled slightly, wondering why that would matter to her in that moment. This was Oliver; her cousin’s ex, her boss and leader, and most importantly, her friend.

His hand ran up and down her back, soothing her as she leaned into him.

“If I was in your situation, what would you tell me?” he queried quietly.

She wrinkled her nose. “That you could do better than Jimmy. You’re much too handsome for him, trust me.”

He laughed and she could hear it against her ear; a low rumble that made her shiver with warmth.

She sighed, reality falling back down on her. “I’d tell you to dump her ass. That you were worth more than her.” She smiled, tipping her head up to see him. “That she was obviously out of her mind if she even _considered_ sleeping around on you.” She frowned. “But it’s different. You’re… You’re Oliver Queen.” She lifted a shoulder. “We have very different lives.”

“Forgetting everything else, the job and the friends and all of that, the Chloe I know would never let a guy like Jimmy walk all over her.” He shook his head, expression severe. “She would never let _any guy_ cheat on her and think it was okay.”

She rested her head back on his shoulder. “I think that Chloe’s missing.” She frowned, staring down. “She got lost in life and I can’t find her.”

He squeezed her lightly, sighing. “So all you gotta do is find her again.”

“What if I can’t?” she asked, tone insecure.

He pulled back, his hands finding her shoulders and holding her in front of him as he stared at her seriously. “She’s not missing. She’s…” He shook his head. “She’s _hibernating_.” His mouth quirked up slightly. “Life isn’t easy and lately it’s throwing you a lot of curveballs. But…” He licked his lips, lifting one of his hands to cup her face, his fingertips sliding into her hair. “You’re so focused on the life you wanted that you’re not considering the fact that maybe you were meant to live another way. Maybe you were meant for better than this.” His thumb stroked her cheek and she found her head lolling toward the touch.

“And if there’s nothing better out there for me? If this is it?” she asked, turning her eyes up toward him inquisitively.

“Then we make the best of it,” he said, lifting a shoulder. “You leave Jimmy, you quit the Daily Planet. You can be _my_ sidekick,” he told her with a wink. “Jet around the world with me; saving the world by night and living the life of a boring CEO during the day.”

“You’ve never been boring,” she told him, lifting a brow.

He grinned. “You ever been to Paris?”

“Never,” she said, smiling lightly.

“Then we’ll go.” He nodded, so nonchalant about it all. “The world’s yours Chloe; you just have to take it.”

She lifted a hand, covering his against her face. “It all sounds good in theory.”

He frowned, letting their hands fall to sit against her lap. She played with his fingers absently, tracing the lines of his palm. “What are you afraid of?”

She looked up at him, her mind going over the question. “Fading.”

He squeezed her hand. “I see you.”

She felt her eyes sting. “You’re the only one.”

As he stared at her, she swallowed tightly. He was so handsome across from her, chiseled features and sympathetic eyes. His hair was mussed from sleep and he needed to shave, but he looked… so real. It wasn’t the coifed Oliver Queen in front of her, the billionaire. But the man. Had his lips always looked that soft? His shoulders so broad? Had his hands always been so large, swamping her tiny one in their grip? Had his smile always made her stomach squirm with butterflies? There was a heat warming her from head to toe; a feeling she’d long forgotten. How long had it been since she’d let Jimmy touch her? Let any man really touch her?

It was wrong… The way she looked at him in that moment. Like she could kiss him and be with him and not feel any regret. But her eyes stared and her teeth bit into her lip and when he tugged her hand, she leaned in. There should have been regret or remorse or something, but as his lips met hers, all she felt was down to the bone goodness.

His hand slid over her shoulder and around her neck, fingers threading in her hair, drawing her mouth up closer for him to slant his lips over hers. She didn’t know what possessed her but one minute they were sitting there, mouths meshed together and the next she was lying on top of him on the couch, her hands roaming the hard plains of his chest and stroking the muscular sculpt of his arms. Her knees fell to his sides, cradling him between her thighs. Stomach to stomach, her breasts pressed against his chest, her mouth connected with his, she felt so much more in that moment than she had in months.

Her hips rotated, pressing intimately against him and drawing a deep groan from his throat. His hands slid down her back, one wrapping around her butt and squeezing as she rubbed his growing hardness. The other slid beneath the rim of her flimsy tank top; she hadn’t thought to change when she climbed out of her bed and left for Oliver’s. She felt his calloused fingers stroke her skin, splaying out over her and sliding higher, drawing her shirt up as he went. Their mouths broke apart, in need of air and she kissed down his neck, suckling and nipping at his skin. It’d been so long and she found her body was thrumming with desire. He sat up abruptly, pulling her shirt up and off of her so quickly, she barely felt it. She felt the cool air of the room against her bare breasts and gooseflesh spread across her. He ducked his head, kissing down her chest, chin brushing against the top of her breast until he fell low enough to capture one of her tight pink nipples with his lips. His arms wrapped tight around her waist, she could feel them flexing at her sides. Her hips jerked, massaging the juncture of her thighs against him. She leaned back in an arch as he lavished her breast with his mouth, teeth nipping at her, tongue soothing.

As he detached from her breast, he nuzzled his face between them, kissing the valley before venturing to the ignored breast and paying it due attention. Her hands slid up the back of his neck, scraping sensually before tangling in his hair and holding it tightly. His hands roamed her back, drawing her closer and clutching at her. His callused hands felt rough against her skin, making her body react to each stroke of his long fingers against her spine. One hand rose, clutching her hair and bringing her face down toward him until their open moths collided, tongues dueling for control. A fiery passion drew up between them and she could feel it through his skin against hers. She wanted to feel more of him and so tugged his shirt off hastily, nearly tearing it in the process.

The feel of his bare chest against hers made her gasp. He was so hard and warm and nothing like anything she’d experienced in the past. Her hands held tightly to his shoulders as she kissed him, rubbing herself down in rhythmic circles, feeling his hardened member pressing up against her through her thin cotton pants. She knew where this was going just as well as she knew she should stop it. He’d probably regret it later and she would be no better than Jimmy. But he tasted so good and his hands felt so right and as he leaned back against the couch once more, she followed without pause. She kissed his chest; each indent and scar, each rigid muscle. She smiled when he jumped at her lips against his ribs (ticklish, apparently), and she nipped down the trail of coarse hair leading from his navel to below his pants.

He looked up at her as her hands found the rim of his pants, a question in his eyes. _You’re sure?_ She tugged his pants away in response and licked her lips as his jutting member met her eyes. Long and thick and much bigger than she’d ever had before. She lifted up to her knees as he kicked off his pants and her hands slid down to cover her pajama bottoms, pausing when his rose to tug them down for her. He turned them over rapidly and she stared up in mild surprise at how quickly he’d turned the tables. His hard, toned body hovered over her, fingers wrapped around the end of her panties and the top of her pants. He slid them down slowly, hands taking the time to stroke her flesh as he went. She shivered as they slid down the back of her thighs, squeezing randomly. Finally, she was bare entirely and laid out beneath him, thighs parted and heart racing.

“You’re stunning,” he told her, ducking his head to press delicate kisses from her collar to her navel. She felt utterly worshipped in that moment, with the caress of his mouth creating fiery patterns in her skin that made her heart stutter in her chest and her hips squirm from side to side in anticipation.

His mouth slid lower, tongue delving into her navel briefly before he was kissing her hip bones and stroking the insides of her legs. Her muscles jumped and her stomach tensed as he suckled along the sensitive skin of her thighs. He kissed the back of her knees and stroked her calves with his strong hands. She stared up at him through hooded eyes while he lavished her body as if she were a goddess. His hands slid up her legs as he rose back toward the juncture of her thighs and he separated her knees further before his tongue had tasted from end to end, the warm wetness of her slit. Her eyes fluttered closed at the intense feeling and her breath left her in a gasp as he nibbled along her clit and suckled all around her. She could feel the graze of his teeth and the soothing sensation of his tongue close behind. His fingers were stroking her slowly, delving into her wet core; first one then two and finally three thrusting into her. His tongue struck her clit, lips wrapping around it to stimulate her into crying out in a near sob.

“Oh god,” she choked out, her neck straining as her head fell back.

She felt the reverberation of his chuckle against her and it sent a wave of ecstasy shuddering through her. Her toes curled against the couch beneath her and her thighs tightened. He was far too good at this, she decided. His teeth grazed her nub and his tongue slid inside of her, thrusting and tasting and taking her to heights she’d long forgotten existed. His hands found her hips; thumb stroking her stomach as he feasted on her with fervor.

Her hands reached out, fingers gripping his hair in tandem with the stroke of his tongue. Finally, she could take no more and as his nose grazed her clit, she arched up against his mouth and burst along with the stars that embedded themselves behind her eyes; brilliant colors and sensations swamped her.

Her body jerked and writhed, eyes tightly shut as he slid up against her. She could feel the heat and weight of his body against hers and there was something oddly comforting in that. Her hands fell from his hair, arms wrapping over his shoulders as he kissed her mouth slow and soft. Her fingers dug into his shoulder blades as she melted into the kiss. His hands slid up her sides, gripping her against him. Her legs were curved up, knees pressing against his sides. She could feel the tip of him brushing against her entrance each time he leaned forward. He kissed down her cheek and buried his face against her neck. He entered her then; thrusting deep and groaning against her throat. She felt her inner walls stretch to fit his girth in a more than just pleasant way.

He didn’t move right away, holding her tightly, his face pressed down against her shoulder. But then he was drawing out of her and she found she missed the feel of him already. Until he was inside of her again, deep and hard and filling her entirely. Her hands gripped his shoulders as he slid in and out of her, hitting a certain spot that had her jerking and crying out, her eyes rolling back. His hands fell to the back of her thighs, lifting her up slightly from the couch and giving them a new angle that had her nails scraping against his shoulders as her mouth fell open, gasping for air. Her chest heaved and she bit down on her lip as his mouth covered a breast, still filling her rapidly.

Jimmy had been a good lover; nothing phenomenal, but he wasn’t incapable in bed. She’d stopped enjoying it when she couldn’t help but wonder if it was her face or Kara’s he was seeing. If he wished it was Kara’s body beneath hers. He stopped using her name, just moans and groans and nothing more and she couldn’t feel anything akin to the ache that used to thrum between her legs at his touch. But that ache was more than thrumming now, it was throbbing and being filled. And Oliver said her name, stared into her eyes, kissed her lips and touched her body without thinking of anyone else. His skin was slick as it slid against hers, hard and heavy. The scrape of whiskers brushed her face as he pressed his cheek against hers, his hands gripping her sides. She found it sexier than she thought. He was always clean shaven, as was Jimmy. But the intimate feel of his facial hair made her shiver against him, her inner walls tightening around his thickness. He groaned against her neck, hands clenching her hips.

His back was flexing beneath her fingers and she found she liked how take charge he could be, but she wanted to draw it out longer. She arched her stomach against him and managed to turn them over with more ease than she expected. He stared up at her with rather wide eyes, smirking a moment later as if proud. Her mind flashed back to a few times he’d shown her self defense moves and she just couldn’t flip him. Well, she finally got the hang of it.

His grin slipped away as she sunk down on him and his hands slid up her sides, cupping her breasts, thumbs stroking her nipples and fingers kneading her soft but firm flesh. Her hands pressed down on his chest, palms spread over his pecs to keep her balance. She could feel a burn in her thighs as they worked to lift her and her heat quivered as it enveloped him each time. The way his face twisted with pleasure, his eyelids fluttering, his body straining against the feeling of it all, she found herself excited just watching him. She rolled her hips, twisting them in circles and licking her lips as he shifted, thrusting up into her, unable to simply take it. His hands slid around to her back, drawing her down and she leaned forward, her elbows bending. Her mouth was just inches from his and he opened his eyes to stare into hers.

One of his hands cupped her cheek, her hair tight between his fingers. She could see the strain in his shoulders, the tenseness of his body as each muscle flexed with the feeling of her wrapping around him.

“How much are you worth?” he asked through grit teeth, his nose brushing against hers.

She panted, her mouth falling open as she could feel his other fingers probing her slit, rubbing her clit in rhythm with each deep thrust he made into her.

“What are you worth, Chloe?” he repeated, tugging her hair slightly and drawing her eyes back to his.

“More,” she whimpered.

“Again,” he said, sliding two fingers in next to his length.

She cried out, her neck straining.

“More,” she said, a little louder, before she bit her lip.

He kissed her neck, nibbling at her shoulder and stroking her as he slid in and out deeper and harder each time.

“Again,” he breathed against her ear as her body arched. Her stomach pressed against his, her breasts pushing out, her head thrown back. His arm wrapped around her back, hand cupping her ass and pulling her against him as he sunk into her.

She whimpered, tears springing to her eyes. He felt so good, so hot. Her insides quivered, her body jerked. “More. I’m worth more,” she sobbed, her hands clutching at his shoulders. Seconds later, he sped up and her hips jerked to keep up with the rhythm but it was all too much for her. He kissed her as she flew, high above her body, soaring in ecstasy. Her eyes fell shut, her breath leaving her slowly as she felt his mouth slide down her neck. She could feel him jerking inside of her, warm wetness filling her pleasantly shaking insides. She collapsed on top of him, her head falling to his shoulder and her body humming in delight. He stroked her back and she could feel his heavy breath against her hair. She closed her eyes and wondered if the racing heartbeat she could hear was his or hers.

She felt too good to move or even speak. She just wanted to lie there, relishing in that moment, in those feelings, and never have them fade.

“I’ll always see you,” she heard before drifting away in his arms.

Three months later and Chloe found she was an adulterer. She spent more time in Oliver’s bed than she did her own. Some part of her wanted to say she knew it was wrong, that she wanted to end it. But she didn’t. He made her _feel_. And he wasn’t lying when he said he’d always see her. When everybody else had their lives to think about and forgot all about her, she had Oliver. It wasn’t all about the sex, though it was amazing on a level she’d never even imagined possible. He was incredible. Tender and loving and utterly fascinating. The plains of his body that she’d mapped uncountable times. The way his mind worked, which she’d picked apart as she laid beside him or they went out to eat. She preferred the days they stayed in his apartment, lounging in pajamas and just lazing about together. She could forget that she was married to a man that didn’t love her and she didn’t love back. That her best friend had forgotten all about her and her cousin was living her life. She could imagine she was just Chloe Sullivan, the lucky woman who got to spend her time with Oliver Queen; a man who spared no chance to make her feel incredible. Whether he took her ice skating or a walk in the park, to a movie or an inexpensive dinner, or simply held her as they lay on the couch and watched sitcoms on his widescreen TV.

She could cuddle with him all day long and it seemed like the world was a better place for it. Going home to Jimmy always dampened her mood though. There was no guilt inside of her, but she could see it was written all over his face. Eating meals with him felt like playing house rather than actually being a normal couple. She preferred the witty banter she had with Oliver, where he fed her Chinese food with his chopsticks, right out of the take out box. Or he taught her how to cook some bizarre meal he learned while traveling the world. Just sharing a pizza and a couple of beers felt more comfortable. But sitting with Jimmy in their apartment, across the table from him, with the matching plates and the stiff discomfort of his eyes always turning away from her… She couldn’t take it much longer.

She could already imagine Clark’s stern expression and disappointment should he ever find out what she was doing; cheating on her husband and with a mutual friend too. But she never spoke to Clark anymore. He was too busy being Superman and Lois Lane’s husband for his old friend and she accepted that now, despite how much it hurt. Maybe when the shine wore of his marriage, he’d remember that he had friends who were still there to support him. Until then, she’d survive.

She never put her wedding band back on. It lay safely beside her engagement ring in her jewelry box on the dresser in the room she shared with Jimmy. He’d attempted to make love to her at least twice a week and each time she shrugged him off. Not only because it still repulsed her, the idea of him touching Kara and then her, but because she couldn’t fathom making love any other way than how it was with Oliver. He’d changed her irrevocably and she supposed that might come back to burn her later. She was usually too tired to pay Jimmy much attention anyway. League business was still a big priority and she worked for the Daily Planet, despite its overlooking her talent. And then her extra curricular activities with Oliver had her absolutely famished by the end of the day. She spent most of her nights with him anyway; it wasn’t like Jimmy noticed since he was always “working late” now.

She was pretty sure Bart knew. He kept looking at them strangely, almost suspicious. Oliver wasn’t doing much to hide his affection, she had to admit. He stroked her face in plain view of anybody and he smiled at her in a way that was entirely too intimate. He stood closer than he needed to and she supposed the fact that it didn’t surprise her or throw her off was evidence in itself. When he needed to talk to her, he always leaned down to whisper against her ear. Not everything he said was work related. “You smell good,” he’d tell her sometimes. Or, “Found your panties. They were in the sink.” She flushed at that one, biting her lip as she remembered their passionate joining in the kitchen that led to the living room meaning for the bedroom but didn’t get any farther.

Sometimes, when he was sure no one was looking he’d kiss her shoulder or nuzzle her neck. No matter how hard she tried to stop them, her eyes always fell to half mass, relishing in that small touch. Even when he was out of town, he kept in constant communication with her. He excused it to the League as keeping her informed and making sure Metropolis was taken care of. But he just liked to hear her voice. She knew because every time she picked up, “ _Watchtower, what’s your status?_ ” He’d reply, “Mournfully alone. It’s good to hear your voice, Angel. I miss you already, cheer me up.”

It usually led to rather lurid phone calls that she hoped nobody overheard given the intimacy shown. She knew he was careful about phone taps, but that didn’t stop certain sensitive hearing aliens from checking in, or suspicious League members for that matter. Still, she couldn’t pass up a moment to talk with Oliver, be it dirty or just nonsense to hear his voice. He kept his trips as short as he could lately but she told herself it was just because he didn’t like being away for so long, rather than because he might want to return to her. She knew that they were treading on unknown territory and they should probably take a step back. It wasn’t supposed to be a relationship. It wasn’t supposed to be anything. But there were feelings developing each day and she couldn’t help but be scared about what they could mean in the end. She was already married to a man who didn’t love her; she didn’t want to fall for the guy she was sleeping with only to find he didn’t want more than a physical relationship. She hated how pessimistic she’d become. Oliver was the only person she felt right with lately and she was doubting him despite his constant support.

He didn’t talk about Jimmy unless she brought him up and then he listened to her go on about all the ways she felt tired with the situation. He was patient and understanding but she knew he must be getting sick of hearing about her husband. He didn’t stop her though. Instead, he played with her fingers or stroked her hair and listened to her vent all of her frustrations until she was so worked up all he could do to get her to calm down was take her up against the wall or across the kitchen table. Not that she was complaining. His entire apartment had been christened by them, every time better than the last. She loved his shower second best; his bed was her favorite. Still, the heated water pouring down on them as he held her hands against the tile wall, thrusting up into her, her legs wrapped tight around his waist… It never got old – the feel of him inside of her.


	134. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were finally free.
> 
> [Sequel to: The Affair]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing** : Chloe/Oliver, mentioned Chloe/Jimmy, Jimmy/Kara  
>  **Rating** : NC17  
>  **Warning(s)** : Sexual content  
> 

There was a half empty bottle of likely less than bubbly champagne somewhere in the vicinity, a celebratory dinner cooling on the table, long forgotten. The bottle of whip cream though, it was very much in play. The strawberries had been eaten, their sticky red juice staining various areas of her alabaster skin as he ate them off of her while she lay grinning up at him, bare and happy from the comfortable couch. It was a time for relishing in freedom, he figured. She, he, _they_ , were finally free.

Nine months ago he'd been stuck living life as a lone bachelor, watching as everybody around him was either married or dating; his only companion, his green leather alter ego. And then she was there; staying later than usual, watching movies with him when she could've been home with her husband. He wasn't sure when it happened, but he knew it was long before that night she sat on his couch, feeling as though she was less of a person because of her marriage. He'd admit to himself that when she married the geeky photographer, he saw a path close off that he knew he should've followed earlier. And he saw her future dwindling before him.

He hadn't been surprised when Lois and Clark married; anything but. The rest of his League was well on their way into finding their happily-ever-after's, equipped with the loves of their life and the secrets they carried being held between the two rather than solely on their shoulders. But Oliver didn't have that; couldn't find it. And then he was kissing her, caressing her, loving her, like he'd long dreamt of. Those nights he'd come home from a business affair to find her at his computer or curled up on his couch, far before their adulterous indulgence ever started, he liked to pretend, if only for a moment, that she wasn't just a friend, but his wife. And then one day she was letting him touch her in a way only her husband should have. She was letting him kiss her lips and sink into her; deep and hard. It was better than he'd ever imagined.

His feelings for her had grown over time, but he'd felt them far before she ever saw anything in him. She had always been off limits; the cousin of his ex, the best friend and sidekick of his ally, Superman, and the Watchtower to his League. But there was something about her. The ease with which she could make him smile or laugh. How she could drag him out of the worst day possible to eat Chinese food and just talk; about anything and everything. He grew to love the way she smiled; large and with all of herself; no holding back. He could talk to her like he'd done with no other. And yeah, sometimes when she stayed over because it was too late and she was tired, he relished in seeing her wearing his shirts; so long and overly large on her tiny curvaceous frame. He liked it a little too much, he knew. So when she came to him and she told him she wasn't enough for her husband, that she had failed, he wanted nothing more than to tear Jimmy Olsen's head from his shoulders and shake some sense into him.

Three months he spent wanting more but accepting that he could only have what she'd allow. Still, he knew it was more than any affair should have been. They weren't strangers just having sex; they were good friends making love. It wasn't dirty or wrong; in fact it felt more right than anything. She spent more time in his apartment than she did anywhere else and when he wasn't there, they still talked on the phone. He'd never had an affair before. Married women were off limits and he wasn't planning on ever breaking that rule. But Chloe was different. She felt lost, invisible, and he wanted her to know that he always saw her, would always find her.

After three months of knowing that eventually she'd have to go home to Jimmy. That the world would always know her as Jimmy's wife and never his, he'd had enough. He couldn't stand the idea that she might actually forgive her husband; that she could go back to him and let him drag her down again and again. He wanted to love her, to pick her up and show her that she was better than that. He was ready and willing and he wanted to be the only man in her life. He wanted her to come home to only him and to never tell him again how much it hurt her to know that her own husband, somebody she had once loved, could go behind her back so easily and frequently. So he told her, one morning when the rest of the world seemed non-existent, that he loved her and he wanted her and he couldn't do the affair thing anymore. And she tried to run; some part of him knew she would. But then she was letting him bring her back to bed, to his arms, and she was just as responsive as ever. She wanted it too; he'd seen it in her eyes. Felt it every time she curled up to him each night; holding tight to his arms or tracing her finger over where his heart lay. She was just scared of admitting some sort of failure. She didn't want to say that she was divorced, that she couldn't keep her marriage together. But the man she was with didn't treat her right, didn't treasure her enough. And she knew it; she accepted it and she told Oliver she loved him back.

After a long, exhausting day of making love, he didn't even hear her as she left his room, but when he woke up late the next day to find her still in his arms, a packed bag sitting on the floor, he knew what she'd decided. She was staying and she wasn't ever going back.

Six months passed since and her divorce papers had been finalized just that afternoon. His lawyer called him while he was looking over papers in his office and she was putting in her two weeks notice at The Daily Planet. They were moving to Star City the coming weekend, where, if she chose to, she could easily get a job at Star City Gazette. If not, however, she had a comfortable job as Watchtower at his side. He'd made dinner for them, equipped with candlelight and soft music and when she walked in with a bag of strawberries and whip cream, he knew his lawyer had gotten through to her on her cell phone. She grinned at him, her smile ear to ear and her eyes shining brightly.

"I'm free!" she told him, giggling. She dropped the bag to the ground and ran across the apartment floor to jump into his arms. Dinner was forgotten, but dessert was brought to the couch. He'd already shed her of the majority of her clothes and laid her out on the cushions before she had the strawberries open.

Whoever said the sex dwindled when the affair become legit was wrong. He wasn't sure if everybody else just lost the spark when the secrecy was taken away, but he and Chloe still had it going strong; which was why a velvet box sat opened and empty on the table. The ring was already sitting purposefully on her finger as they threaded through his hair while he caressed her abdomen with his mouth. Her back was arched like a bow; his hand slid up her stomach, fingers splaying out between the valley of her breasts. Her knees pressed down into the couch on either side of his legs, slim thighs parted and waiting.

Given his lifestyle, he'd seen beautiful woman by the dozens. Supermodels, heiresses, etcetera. But he honestly thought she trumped them all. So delicately beautiful, curvy and lithe, perfection beneath his hands. It was as if she were molded to fit against him; made for him to caress and kiss and love. And he did, as often as he could, without fear of rejection or guilt. So many times in his life, he'd figured he was doomed to a life of solitude. His parents, the loves of his life, he lost them all. And just when he thought he'd found the right woman, she'd married someone else, before he'd even had the chance to show her anything akin to love. And then life spun a tale he'd never imagined and now she was divorced and engaged to him and he'd never known happiness like this. His life consisted of making sure everybody else was alive and happy and safe and he'd accepted that maybe there was nobody out there who could do the same for him. He'd taken the roll of hero and made it his own, accepting the downfalls that came with it. But there were upsides too; the best friends a guy could ask for, the most incredible woman to spend his life with, and the unbelievably rewarding feeling of knowing that something needed to be done and he did it, without hesitation.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, nails grazing his head just enough to make his skin quake with desire. He kissed up her flat stomach, teeth and tongue marking her soft skin. One of his hands was wrapped tight around her thigh, holding her upright, the other sliding up the curve of her back. Six months ago, he'd always wondered if he was just a way for her to escape; just a male influence that made her _feel_. That if it hadn't been him on that couch, it would've been someone else and she would've responded the same. But he knew now that wasn't the case. Her feelings for him had grown and she'd come to him specifically. She trusted him, felt right with him, and she knew that the entire world could forget her, but he couldn't. Ever. Months later and those feelings hadn't diminished in the least. It'd been hard getting there, but he was more than happy with where they were.

She leaned forward, drawing herself back up and tipping her head down so they were face to face once more. Her hand fell to cup his face, thumb stroking beneath his eye. She kissed him, soft and slow, drawing it out. She tasted like warm strawberries. Her lips slanted across his as her hands fell lower, fingers curling to drag down his chest and abdomen until they found the button and zipper of his jeans and parted them easily, slipping her slim hand beneath the fabric to cup him tightly. He jerked upward against the heat of her hand and his eyes fluttered. She looked so angelic and free before him, bare of clothing and utterly confident with where she was and what she was doing.

The fingers of one of her hands purposely grazed his ribs, making him jump, and he could feel her grin as they kissed. She loved knowing that he was ticklish there. She broke away from his mouth and rested her head against his shoulder, her body leaning forward until her front was pressed against his. Still her hand worked beneath his pants, rubbing at his growing hardness in tandem with the stroke of her lips against his neck and shoulder. "So now that I'm a divorcee," she whispered, low against him, "You think I'll become angry and bitter against men?"

He could barely think with her touching him, but he still shook his head, grinning. "Angry sex is always fun."

She laughed, biting his shoulder playfully.

"Besides, you'll be married again soon." He turned, catching her eyes.

"Yeah? How soon?" she wondered, nuzzling her nose against his. Her hand slid out of his pants, only to part them further. She slid up onto her knees and readjusted his boxers so he was jutting out at the perfect angle for her to sink down onto him. He could feel her heat already, his eyes ready to roll back in his head. She nipped his lower lip. "You think you'll still love me when I'm old and wrinkly?"

He grinned, his breathing picking up. She was so close. "More than ever."

Her eyes softened and he was reminded of how she looked when he first told her he loved her. And then she was sinking down onto him, enveloping him entirely. It was the most incredible and agonizing moment. He wanted more of her, all of her, right then, without pause. And yet... It felt so good; almost too good. He ducked his head and pressed a kiss against her collar, closed lips, soft and loving. She didn't move right away, simply surrounding him, her arms wrapped tight around his neck, as if hugging him to her. "God, you feel so good," he murmured against her.

Her nails scraped along his shoulder blades before she leaned back just enough for her to catch his eyes. She rotated her hips and he gasped, his stomach tensing pleasantly. She lifted, gyrating her hips in circles, torturing him. His palms slid down her back to find her hips, gripping them tightly. She locked eyes with him and didn't let go. He watched as she bit her lip, nearly drawing blood, so intense was she in drawing out the sensations. Her body arched and tensed with the waves of ecstasy thrilling her from head to toe. He could feel her thighs shaking against him, could feel her heat quivering around him. Her nails dug in, fingertips nearly bruising with pressure. He tipped his head forward, captured the pebbled nipple of her breast in his mouth, lavished it with his tongue. One of her hands found his hair, wrapped it tight around her fingers, holding him in place as he suckled at her, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her breast.

One of her hands reached behind him and gripped the back of the couch while her thrusts began to speed up, enveloping him quicker and deeper inside of her. He broke away from her breast, panting against her for a moment before enveloping the other in his mouth. He let one of his hands slid down between her thighs and flick her clit, running slow circles around it, making her jerk against him. She cursed under her breath, whispering his name and closing her eyes tight against the sensations. He loved it when she got like this; so involved in all the feelings that she just let go entirely.

He briefly wondered if when they told their friends what was going on, things would change at all. He knew she was scared of Clark's reaction and possibly even Lois's. He was fairly certain the rest of the League at least knew how _he_ felt about Chloe. Over the three months of the affair, he hadn't been hiding it as much as he could, and as soon as she was no longer Jimmy's and only his, he couldn't seem to keep his hands off of her. More than once one of the League brothers had walked in on him rubbing her shoulders while she typed or playing with her hair. They'd fallen asleep together once, tangled on the couch. And when the League walked in, they found him half awake, stroking her hair as she napped comfortably in his arms. He hadn't offered any explanation and they hadn't asked for one.

Clark hadn't been there for any of the incriminating evidence, however. As Chloe had admitted, he wasn't around much anymore. Too busy playing Superman. Oliver rather resented him for it; not only because he was born with the abilities Oliver wished he had, if only to help him in his heroic proclivities, but because he so easily forgot about Chloe. Just another name to add to the list of people who overlooked her, who made her feel inferior when she, of all people, didn't deserve it. He would never be one of those people. He couldn't imagine forgetting her, for any reason. She'd become a large part of his life; her ability to join him in his heroic tendencies helped with that. He'd seen her at her lowest, shared her highest, and wanted to be there for everything in between.

Her wet warmth coated his length with each strong stroke inside of her, their pace picking up, his finger working wonders on her clit. He could taste the salty sweat of her skin as he kissed the curve of her breast, panting harshly against her. His body tightened from head to toe, eyes falling shut, hand gripping her hip tightly. She was too tight, quivering so incredibly, and her heat was almost unbearable any longer. He felt her fingers tug his hair and his head fell back, eyes opening slightly to stare up at her, glazed and unfocused. She leaned forward, lips parted and pressed to his. She caught his eyes, held on, unblinking and he felt her tongue swipe the underside of his upper lip at the exact moment he couldn't hold out any longer. He felt her orgasm grip her just as he arched forward, jerking into her, hand sliding from her waist as his entire arm wrapped around her, pulling her up so her breasts were pressed tight against his chest. He could feel her shaking, inside and out. Her breath caught, her eyes widened before falling shut, and her face twisted in agonized pleasure.

As she came down, her body continued to spasm, her fingers tightening in his hair and squeezing his shoulder. Her head fell, forehead pressing against his neck and she gasped for air. His hands slid up her back, kneading at her lightly while his mouth pressed lingering kisses to her shoulder. She sighed contently, shifting just enough to make him twitch inside of her with awareness. She sat up slowly, running her fingers through her damp hair and smiling down at him, a fulfilled flush to her cheeks. She reached up, cupping his face and brought it forward before pressing her nose to his. "Remind me to stock up on strawberries for our honeymoon."

He grinned, laughing lightly before he captured her lips in a short, sweet kiss.

"And whip cream," she murmured as they parted before she swooped down and kissed him again. "And chocolate sauce."

He smirked, tangling his tongue with hers. She moaned quietly, her hands falling from his face, fingers grazing down his neck before gripping his shoulders. She pushed him back just enough for them to breathe. "I think we still have some whip cream left," she told him, lips curling as she twisted to grab the toppled bottle from the side of the couch. She leaned back in his arms, trusting him to keep her from falling without even asking. His large hands splayed over her back, watching as she shook the whip cream bottle before turning it upside down and drawing a heart between the valley of her breasts before she tossed it back to the floor.

She slid closer once more, wiggling her hips against him. "Full yet?"

He lifted a brow. "I have a hearty appetite," he replied before ducking his head and licking one of the cream curves, tongue trailing over her breast slowly. She shivered, leaning further into his mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck, fingers burying in his hair. He followed the white trail down, along the top of her ribs and back up to her other breast, where he kissed the pebbled nipple teasingly before moving along. She whimpered, tugging at his hair and he chuckled against her. Just as he was about to finish licking her clean of the sticky, white topping, he heard a familiar voice.

"Oh god!"

He closed his eyes tightly, frowning.

"Walk away. Quickly!" he heard AC exclaim, voice tight. "Sorry bro, didn't you were, uh... o-occupied."

"Seriously! Chloelicious! I mean I had dreams, but you are just... WOW!"

"BART!" Victor and AC were heard yelling.

"What? A guy can't give a compliment anymore!"

"What the _hell!_ " exclaimed another voice and Oliver cringed inwardly.

It was _him_. If it were just the JL brothers, this moment could probably be fixed a lot easier.

Chloe immediately slid lower, covering her naked body with him and he opened his eyes to see her flushed red in embarrassment now rather than excitement. He grabbed up the blanket from the side of the couch, the one she usually wrapped herself in during early mornings spent watching the news or, more often, cartoons. A childish delight he didn't tell anyone but her about. He wrapped the quilt around her tightly, almost sad to see her beautiful body hidden once more, but held far more dislike for the idea that the other guys could see her.

Arms around her, he leaned her back so he could grab up his pants from the floor. She rose up on her knees as he slid them on, covering him from the view of the others. He didn't bother with his shirt and lifted her up to move her to the side before standing up. "You mind turning around so she can put clothes on?" he asked, lifting a brow at them.

AC and Victor turned immediately and Clark followed, flushing slightly, while Bart continued to stare, grinning. "I'm not opposed to watching!" he said mischievously.

Clark's arm reached across and turned him around so abruptly, he nearly fell over. "Okay, okay," he muttered. "Geez, nobody can find the humor in things anymore."

Hurriedly, Chloe searched around for her clothes, which seemed to be everywhere. She put on just the basics, her blouse and skirt and kept smoothing it down as she sat next to him, eyes scanning for anything indecent they might find. Her hand found his and his eyes fell to the glint of the diamond sitting on her finger, comforting him some.

"Okay," she called out. "I'm decent."

"Too bad," Bart replied before racing across the room to take a seat on the edge of the couch next to her, grinning down at her fondly.

She smiled slightly, shaking her head. "I was just found on top of your boss and you're _still_ hitting on me?"

He laughed. "I must have low self esteem, you should comfort me."

She rolled her eyes before pushing him. Caught unawares, he slid backwards, falling off the couch with a thump.

He jumped up quickly, dusting himself off and shrugging slightly. "One day, sweetheart. One day."

She snorted before turning her attention back to the rest of the group. Uncomfortably, AC and Victor sat on a couch adjacent to them while Clark paced back and forth on the floor. He kept starting sentences and then cutting himself off. Oliver felt Chloe's thumb stroking the inside of his palm and leaned back into the couch, drawing her up near to him naturally.

Clark came to a sudden halt and turned to them, angrily. "I haven't seen you in awhile, but last time I checked, you were _married!_ " he half-shouted furiously.

"As of today, I'm divorced!" Chloe replied happily.

He threw his arms up, blinking rapidly and shaking his head. "And that was a valid reason to jump Oliver?"

"Well, kind of," she admitted with a shrug. "He hasn't complained the last nine months; I don't think he's going to start now."

"N-nine months," he sputtered.

"I KNEW IT!" Bart cried out triumphantly.

Oliver rolled his eyes, glancing at AC and Victor who shrugged, nodding agreeably.

Chloe looked up at Clark who was still stunned. She lifted her hand, showing off the diamond engagement ring. "But I figured this was more worthy of celebration," she told him, tone light, as if to try and ease him into it.

He stumbled to a chair and sat down with a sigh. "What about Jimmy?"

"Jimmy is... hopefully happy with Kara."

"I'd rather him be missing entirely," Oliver muttered, frowning.

She nudged him. "Our relationship wasn't working out. We both liked blondes, but he preferred aliens and I..." She turned to Oliver, smiling warmly. "I wanted to love and be loved the same in return."

His hand lifted, stroking her face affectionately.

"Wait, so Jimmy was _cheating_ on you?" Clark shouted, suddenly standing from his chair again.

"Where is he?" AC asked, face contorting with anger.

"I can have him on the FBI's most wanted list in five minutes," Victor offered, face showing no signs of humor.

"I say we kill him!" Bart exclaimed. "I know a place... They'll _never_ find him!"

"Guys, guys!" Chloe called out, laughing slightly. "Thank you, but... It's over. I'm over it and him. I just..." She sighed, smiling at them. "He's part of the past and... I'm looking on the positive side of this."

"Positive side?" Clark lifted a brow in disbelief.

"Chloelicious, babe, I'm sorry but what's so great about the guy who was supposed to love you forever cheating on you with the blonde bitch from planet K?"

She shook her head. "Look, I made a _huge_ , ginormous, incredibly thoughtless mistake when I married Jimmy Olson." She smiled, licking her lips. "I was trying to be someone I wasn't. I was trying to be happy when I couldn't be. And all of this just... led me to where I was supposed to be all along."

"Naked in front of the Justice League?" Bart teased.

"She means Oliver, genius," Victor told him with an exasperated sigh.

"I _knew_ that!" Bart defended, glaring at him before turning back to Chloe. "So nine months, huh?" He whistled, brows lifting. "I believe that means I win, guys! Pay up! I said seven to ten months! Ha!"

"You _bet_ on us?" Chloe asked, eyes widening.

"You're _surprised_?" Victor replied, amused.

She snorted. "Only slightly."

"So... this is... what you want?" Clark asked, staring at her with a slightly lost expression.

"It is," she told him, nodding before she looked over to Oliver softly. "It really is."

Clark nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and turning to Oliver. "It probably goes without saying, but..."

"Hurt her and you'll crush me into dust." Oliver nodded. "I know."

"Good." Clark stared at him a moment, almost as thought judging whether or not he really felt he was good enough and then he smiled, just a small twitch of his mouth and Oliver knew he passed. Maybe not with flying colors, but he'd been accepted.

"Let's see the rock, _mamacita_!" Bart exclaimed, leaning over as she lifted her hand. "Dude, you could blind somebody with that."

She laughed, leaning back to let her head fall to Oliver's shoulder.

The voices of the four men around them rose, all of them getting distracted from the situation all together. Chloe snuggled up closer to him, her arm falling to lay over his waist and the top of her head fitting under his chin. He wrapped his arms around her, his hand sliding up and down her side soothingly. He actually felt pretty relieved. Nine months of secrecy from people he hated keeping secrets from; it was good to finally get it off his chest. And now that their engagement was out, he felt even better. There would be no hiding it from here in. He frowned. Now they just had to tell Lois. He stiffened, already hearing her yelling at him about breaking up her little cousin's marriage. He probably wouldn't be able to get a word in edgewise.

"It'll be fine," he heard Chloe murmur. "I'll talk to her first. Let her get used to the idea and then we'll tell her all of it." He smiled slightly, lifting her head to look at him. "Maybe not _all_ of it."

He smirked. "I don't know. I think what we used her desk for last month would be a very interesting conversation to have with her."

She snorted, lifting a brow. "Yeah. I can see you being deafened pretty quick into that one."

He shook his head, smiling lightly before lifting a hand to play with her hair, watching as the light made it glow gold. He forgot anyone else was there for a moment, relishing in the freedom of being able to hold her with no consequences any longer. They were free; finally. "I love you," he said, kissing her forehead.

She smiled at him, eyes softening before she tipped her head and pressed a kiss against his lips. It started off slow and he could feel that she was aiming to end it early, but then she got caught up. Her hands lifted, palms cupping his cheeks and her body turned until she was arched up. Lips parting, her tongue trailed along the seam of his lips and he opened them to her without pause.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" they heard and he was brought back to reality, only to find Bart staring at them, hands lifted as if in defense. "Save it for the honeymoon, boss! These three virgins shouldn't be seeing that!"

The other three men snorted, lifting a brow at him.

"They were untainted and now you've ruined them with your..." He frowned, eyes thinning dramatically, "lovey dovey crap."

Chloe laughed before reaching back and pushing him off the couch arm once more.

"Ow!" he exclaimed before suddenly shouting, "Hey!" excitedly. "Whip cream!" There was some shuffling and then he reappeared, holding an empty plastic carton. "Aww man, you guys ate all the strawberries!"

Oliver laughed, deep and hearty. He never felt so good. The lightness of everything, the content in knowing she was his and that it wouldn't change for anything, the understanding that maybe there wasn't someone out there who could be his hero, but there was a hero who would gladly fight for the world by his side, and love him every second for the rest of their lives. He picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, threading their fingers tightly. It was promising to be a better life and well worth the interrupted celebration.


	135. Surprise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They went to surprise him and got surprised themselves. (OneShot)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated **Mature** for sexual content

Valentine’s day dawned on a warm Thursday that had couples of all ages and types floating on cloud nine. Flower prices rose to extremes, chocolate flew off the shelves, sappy movies were being sold at an all time high, and love was in the air. Metropolis was busy with sappiness to a caliber that had Bart Allen fake-puking to the other three guys next to him. His friends chuckled at his antics, rolling their eyes at the many lovey-dovey couples that walked past them. Since none of them currently had a girlfriend, they were throwing a singles night free of all women. They had an extra large pizza with everything on it and two half-sacs of Budweiser. They were currently on their way to their place of celebration, wherein lived the last of their group. They hadn’t informed Oliver of the boy’s night planned, instead deciding to surprise their billionaire bud with it.

“I think we need another pizza,” Bart complained as they walked through the front foyer toward the elevator.

“It’s an extra large. You can’t be _that_ hungry. You just ate an hour ago,” Clark replied, shaking his head with amusement and mild exasperation.

“Hey, it takes a lot to keep this moving!” Bart grinned, lifting a challenging brow.

“Well you’re not going to do much moving tonight anyway. Seems all the ladies are taken and uninterested. Poker will be the highlight of the evening,” Victor reminded, shaking his head.

“Sweet!” He shrugged, climbing onto the elevator and bouncing his foot in anticipation; he didn’t do waiting well. “I still don’t see why Chloelicious and Lois couldn’t come though.”

“Lois has a date,” Clark told him, leaning back against the wall. “And Chloe said she was busy tonight.” His brow furrowed. “She wasn’t at the Planet when I left though.”

“Think she has a hot date too?” AC wondered, smiling.

“No way. Secretly Chlo’s waiting for me,” Bart denied, throwing his hands up arrogantly.

The guys laughed. “Waiting? For what? You to grow?”

Bart rolled his eyes. Just because he was the shortest of the group… “You know she’s not that tall either.”

“She’s taller than you though, isn’t she?”

“Love has nothing to do with height,” he replied comically.

AC laughed, shoving their short friend playfully. “I dunno about you guys, but I think our Chloe has a thing for tall heroes.”

“Who?” Bart asked, sounding rather irritated.

Clark and AC shared an amused look. “Has nobody else noticed the frequent visits she’s made to Ollie’s apartment lately?”

“They work together.” Bart shrugged in confusion. “He needs her help with computer hacking a lot.”

“So why doesn’t he call Victor?” AC asked, lifting a brow.

“’Cause he’s busy and Chloe’s closer… I dunno.”

“And the flirting?”

“They don’t flirt,” he denied, shaking his head.

“Please!” AC laughed. “Whole conversations are spent flirting.”

Bart crossed his arms over his chest. “So what? You think they like each other?”

“It’s very possible.”

“Watchtower and Green Arrow though?” he wondered uncertainly.

“He’d be a better choice than a lot of her previous boyfriends,” Clark conceded.

“He dated Lois though,” Victor reminded, frowning.

The boys shrugged, looking up as the ding to the elevator told them they’d arrived.

Bart clapped his hands together and licked his lips. “Wicked. I’m hungry!”

The four men walked off the elevator and toward the more homey part of the apartment. “Eh Ollie, come get some grub!” Bart called out in greeting.

“Way to ruin the surprise, Allen,” AC said, shoving him.

“What? Like he didn’t hear the elevator,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

As the entered the living room, they found it empty. “Ollie?” AC called out.

“Did he have plans tonight too?” Victor wondered.

“No. He said he was going to stay in and work, remember?”

Clark shook his head and then pointed a thumb at the open bottle of wine on the counter leading into the kitchen. “Uh, guys… I’m not sure we should—“

“You think he’s got a girl here?” Bart asked, grinning excitedly. “See, I told you he wasn’t into Chlo like that!”

“Well he definitely had somebody over,” Victor agreed, motioning to the half-eaten plates of dinner on the table and the low-burning candles setting up a romantic glow.

“Ol really goes all out, eh?” Bart commented, motioning to the dim lighting to the room and then lifting his brows as he nodded toward the rose petals strewn on the floor.

“We should go,” Clark suggested, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“No way. I want to know who she is!”

“Bart,” Victor chastised, sighing.

“What? You’re not curious?” He looked up at them with a lifted brow and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “This is like the first girl he’s apparently been steady with since Lois. He wouldn’t go through all this unless he _really_ liked her. Don’t you want to know whose going to be Mrs. Ollie?” he teased, smirking.

“This isn’t really the time, is it?” Clark said, shifting on his feet.

“Well obviously it’s the only time. Who knows when an opportunity like this will arise? He apparently hasn’t been letting us in on the scoop.” Bart shrugged, beginning to walk around the apartment, eyes scanning the room.

“What are you doing?” Clark asked, his voice rather hushed as if he was worried Oliver might hear him.

“What? I’m looking for clues. Something to tell us her identity.” He shrugged, unabashed by his curiosity.

“Why don’t we just ask him tomorrow?”

“Because I want to know now!”

Clark sighed, looking toward AC and Victor for help. They shrugged, rather curious themselves.

The four of them spread out, covertly looking around for some kind of clue to who she might be. There were a few pictures here or there, most of them just Oliver with friends. A barbecue, a few from last Christmas, and a group picture of him standing with the Justice League, all sans their crime fighting gear. There was a photo of him and Chloe that Clark recognized from the assignment they had in Paris a few weeks prior. The two of them were standing by a water fountain, Oliver’s arm around Chloe’s waist while she leaned into him. They smiled out from the picture, not seeming to see Bart in the background, throwing bread to the hoard of pigeons congregating before him as he became uncomfortable with the amount of birds vying for his food.

“Uh guys?” AC’s voice called out and they turned to see the lacey green bra he was holding up with his forefinger.

He motioned with his head to the trail of clothes leading to the bedroom door.

“You hear that?” Clark asked, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah. What is that?” Victor asked.

“Chris Isaak?” AC said with a laugh.

“No way!” Bart replied, shaking his head as his shoulders shook with laughter.

“That Wicked Games song,” AC told them, nodding.

“That girl in the video was _hot_!”

“Bart,” Clark sighed.

“What?” he asked, innocently grinning.

He simply shook his head.

“Hey Clark, take a peek,” Bart told him, motioning to the door.

“What?” he asked, astonished. “No!”

He rolled his eyes, lifting his hands as if it was nothing. “Come on! I’m not asking you to watch. I just want to know if we know her.”

“That’s wrong! I can’t just… I mean they could be…” He flushed with discomfort. “Guys?” he asked, turning to look at Victor and AC for help.

They shifted around, shrugging.

“Really? You don’t think this is just a _little_ wrong?”

They avoided looking him in the eye.

“I won’t do it! I can’t just…” He crossed his arms over his chest, sighing in frustration.

“Just a little peek. Just find her face and let us know if we know her!” Bart tried, looking up at him with wide, encouraging eyes. He walked closer, clapping Clark’s shoulder in a friendly manner and turning him toward the door. “Real quick just do your eye thing, take a look, turn it off. Easy!”

Clark glowered at him.

He weighed the pros and cons; it wasn’t like he was going to sit around and watch the show, but… He had to admit he was a little curious. For the last couple months Oliver hadn’t been around much but when he was, he was happier than usual. And he had quickly gotten out of hanging with everybody that night but his only excuse was that he had a lot of work. Which is why they came by; to surprise him with a little relaxation with the guys. They figured he was like the rest of them; too busy for a relationship what with saving the world and all.

Pushing away the guilt he felt, he took a deep breath and turned toward the door, his hands sitting on his sides. His eyes thinned and he focused his concentration on penetrating the wall, into the bedroom. It was incredibly dim lighting and his eyes took a moment to adjust to it all. On the bed, in a tangle of dark sheets was who he was looking for. However, Oliver was on top and so it made it a little harder to make out the face of the woman he was with. With his eyes focused inward, his hearing heightened to those of the two in the room.

He could only make out Oliver’s back for the moment; flexing and shining with sweat as it lifted and fell with each movement he made. The voices mingled, one soft and feminine, the other deep and rough. Thin, delicate hands slid up Oliver’s back, fingers tracing his spine and molding to the muscular, tense sculpt beneath them. Whoever she was, it was obvious she and Oliver had been together for awhile. As uncomfortable as Clark felt watching the display, he couldn’t help but notice how unbelievably tender the usually very professional Oliver Queen was being. For a second, Clark feared that he might be looking in on Lois and Oliver _reconnecting_ and nearly turned his eyes away from it. But then he remembered her talking about some other “hot” guy she was seeing and he’d seen the rather crappy car pull up and take her out for the night.

Oliver’s head ducked, his mouth meeting the woman’s beneath him. Clark could hear their mingled moaning and his ears caught the smallest of sounds like the slick slanting of their lips against each other and stilted breath of the woman. If he focused, he could even hear the speeding heartbeats between them. He didn’t want to think about the _other_ sounds filling his sensitive ears. Slim, toned legs lifted, wrapping tighter around Oliver’s waist. His arm lifted, hand sliding up to pull hers down, fingers entwining against the pillow beside her head.

“This isn’t a peep show, Clark,” he could hear from the boys near him.

“I can’t see her face. His head’s in the way,” he replied in a harsh whisper.

“Oh god,” he heard a voice call out, faint and choked.

He was too distracted by Bart and the others to pay attention and turned his hearing back to the room.

The movements of the two in the bed sped up. The woman’s hand clutched at Oliver’s back, fingers digging in. Oliver’s mouth broke away from hers, his face burying in her shoulder, kissing her neck. Still, Clark couldn’t see the girl, however, as she turned her head. Blonde hair covered her face as she panted against Oliver’s ear. Her moaning was getting louder, her mouth hanging open as she whimpered and cried.

Oliver trailed down from her neck, kissing across her collar and down her chest. Her stomach lifted from the bed and Clark watched Oliver’s hand splay out over her ribs. He kissed down the valley of her breasts before sliding right to envelop the straining center of her breast with his lips. Clark shifted his feet as his gaze fell from her covered face and stared at her perfect, pale breasts. Oliver covered the other with his hand a second later and Clark shook his head, reminding himself that he was trying to find out her identity and only her face could provide that.

Still, his eyes roamed a little lower as her hair was still covering her from his view. Oliver’s mouth switched to the other breast and his arm fell, slung low around her waist, holding her up from the bed. He was thrusting into her with abandon now, no longer slow and tender. If her gasps were anything to go by, their interlude would be ending soon. Her hand slid up into his hair, holding tight to it and tugging.

“Ollie,” she whimpered, her hips rotating to meet his.

Oliver groaned lowly, eyes fluttering.

Suddenly, the two turned over and the woman was on top, her back to Clark. The sheet fluttered low to cover their hips. She was quite beautiful shadowed by only the moon. Her hair fell to just below her shoulders, straight and blonde. One of his hands held hers still, lifted up into the air as her full, rounded hips rocked against him. His other hand slowly slid up her thigh, caressing her hip and holding tight to her ribs, his thumb flicking the underside of her breasts. His girlfriend rose and fell, rotating her hips in fluid strokes; raising so high, she left Oliver nearly bare of her heat entirely. Each time she fell, Oliver’s eyes closed only to open a moment later as she lifted once more.

The rose petals were on the bedspread too, Clark noticed. And there were candles lit around them, but they’d burned away some time ago. In the background, Chris Isaak crooned away, a low, sensual song that well matched the couple. It was obvious it wasn’t just a one-time thing between the two. A couple of empty wine glasses sat on the bedside end table. A half empty bowl of chocolate covered strawberries sat next to it, along with a bottle of whip cream.

The unknown woman leaned forward, drawing Clark’s attention back to her. Her head dipped low, mouth meeting Oliver’s once more. His hand slid onto her back, pressing into the small and she sped up with the pressure. They panted into each other’s mouths as they kissed, tongues tangling, lips slanting over each others. Her breasts grazed his chest as she leaned down into him. Their hands broke apart, his lifting to cup her cheek, fingers threading in her hair, holding her close.

His arm flexed tightly as he turned them slightly, her falling onto her side, thigh sliding higher on his waist. Still her face was covered as Oliver’s face fell to her shoulder once more, kissing it tenderly. He nipped her skin lightly, soothing it with his tongue a second later. Oliver’s hand slid up and down her side, kneading at her skin. He let out a stuttered breath, his eyes falling shut and his hand clutched her hip. Her fingers dug into the back of his shoulders, nails raking down his back as he thrust deeper, faster. She called his name, low at first, louder as they went. “Mmm, Oliver, yes, yes, YES!”

“Even _I_ heard that,” Bart could be heard saying with a snort.

Oliver’s moans were getting louder as his girlfriend soared beneath him, body arched in ecstasy. He broke. His back tightened, body straining to press into hers, eyes tightly shut, hands holding her to him. “I love you,” he murmured against her throat. He repeated it three more times as they came down, while he stroked her back and kissed her shoulder.

Clark suddenly felt like he’d intruded even more than intended. He was about to turn his special eye abilities off when he realized they’d parted and he could now clearly see her face. He colored with realization. Oliver was brushing hair out of Chloe’s face, his fingers running down her cheek. He leaned in, kissing her deeply as she smilingly met each brush of his lips.

Clark yanked his sight away from them and turned toward the three men waiting impatiently. “I love you, too,” his ears caught from the other room, in his best friend’s voice.

“We have to go,” he said, his voice strangled and his brows lifted high.

“What? Why?” Bart asked, his expression twisted with confusion. “Did you see who the babe was or what?”

He nodded abruptly and began walking quickly toward the elevator.

“Well? Are you going to tell us or what?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. In fact he wasn’t to _untell_ himself. The sensual, beautiful woman making love in the next room to one of his close friend was _Chloe_. Somehow, the idea just felt weird. He knew she did it, he just never… She was _Chloe_. And he was Oliver. And they… He shook his head. He didn’t know what he thought about it, but he did know that they deserved to be left alone.

“That’s not fair!” Bart complained. “You got to watch the whole thing while we just stood around!”

“Trust me. It wasn’t fun for me,” he muttered.

“Was she hot? I bet she was hot. Blonde? Brunette? Ooh, a red head?” he asked, smirking.

“Blonde,” Clark told him, walking faster.

“Come on, Clark. Just tell us who it is. It’s gotta be somebody we know if you’re acting like this!” he half-whined.

“Or just someone _he_ knows,” Victor reminded.

“Well that doesn’t narrow it down much. Oh man, was it Lana?” he asked, sounding truly sorry.

“What?” Clark asked, turning around suddenly. “No! Of course not.”

“Lois then?” he asked, lifting a brow and shaking his head slowly.

“No,” he replied, turning back around to leave once more.

He laughed suddenly, coming to a stop. “I know who it is!” Bart said, sounding quite proud of the revelation.

Clark turned around, eyes wide.

“Who?” AC wondered.

“It’s—“

“What are you guys doing here?” a voice called from behind them. The group of four turned to see their boss standing by his room in nothing but a pair of rumpled pants. His hair was all over the place and despite his confused tone, he looked exceptionally happy.

“Uh…. We were going to hang out. Single guy’s night sort of thing,” AC explained.

Victor lifted the beer and pizza for proof.

Oliver nodded, lifting a hand to run through his hair as he glanced back at the door with an unreadable expression. “Oh, well….” He cleared his throat, obviously trying to find an excuse.

“It’s okay. We, uh, know,” Clark told him, shaking his head. “We were just leaving.”

“No. We were just going to reveal Ollie’s secret girlfriend,” Bart announced, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“Bart!” Clark chastised, eyes wide and warning.

“Come on!” he replied, smiling.

“Could we do this tomorrow?” Oliver asked hopefully, brows lifted high and a half-frown on his face.

“Yes. Of course,” Clark immediately agreed.

“Why? Busy?” Bart teased.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” AC wondered.

“Thirsty,” Oliver replied walking down toward the bottle of wine still sitting on the counter. “So… I’ll see you tomorrow…” He waved behind him, quickly making his way back toward the bedroom.

“Wait, boss,” Bart said, sidling toward him. “Don’t you want to introduce us to the _dama bonita_?”

“The _pretty lady_ is tired. You can meet her tomorrow. It’s late,” he said, lifting a warning brow at Bart.

He lifted his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine.” He sighed, scuffing the floor with his foot. “Just wanted to wish her a happy valentines day though,” he mumbled with fake remorse.

Clark rolled his eyes, sighing.

“Thanks Bart. I liked the flowers you sent earlier too,” a voice called from the bedroom door. Everybody turned to see an amused and smiling Chloe Sullivan in nothing but one of Oliver’s shirts. She reached out as he approached, her hand wrapping around the front of his pants and tugging him closer. “Now I was kind of hoping to finish enjoying my night. We’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Her eyes turned up to Oliver, a saucy glint in them.

Oliver turned around to grin at the four gawking males before following Chloe into his bedroom and closing the door behind them.

“Knew it,” Bart said, smiling rather dreamily. “Damn does she ever have nice legs.”

Clark reached out, grabbing the shoulder of Bart’s shirt and dragging him toward the elevator.

“What?” the younger man asked, laughing.

AC and Victor glanced at one another, eyes wide as they nodded. “Did you know?”

“Totally knew.”

“Me too.”

“So where are we going now?” Bart wondered. “This pizza is getting cold!”

“Well, Chloe’s place is empty,” Clark said, shrugging.


	136. The Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He should give her up. All he was doing was putting her in more danger. But he couldn’t let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mature**

He should give her up. He’d thought it a million times before but he couldn’t get past the ‘should.’ He should, but he didn’t - wouldn’t. For months they’d been doing this; this hidden relationship. More to keep them safe then to keep it from others. He was sure there would be some problems within the League if they came out, but he cared more about whether or not she was okay in the end. Whether she was standing by Oliver Queen or the Green Arrow, it seemed like there would be a target on her back. He couldn’t be the reason she was in danger. There was nothing he could do to change it though, except end what they had. And that was a whole lot harder to do then it was to mark as a possibility.

Outside of the League, in the quiet of his Metropolis apartment, they were free. To talk, to love, to be. He could dance with her in the living room with no suspicious and calculating eyes watching – and he had. He could cuddle with her on the couch and watch late night TV with no villains or old flames devising plans to hurt them – which they did, often. She was there when he left to patrol and there when he returned; with a cup of coffee or hot chocolate to bring up his spirits. Sometimes a bottle of wine when she was feeling like distracting him with more intimate ideas.

That night, he’d returned to the wine. Tony Bennett was playing in the background – The Way You Look Tonight. She was swaying around the floor with nothing but his old Excelsior sweater on, reaching her mid-thighs. Barefoot and holding a glass of red wine, eyes closed, she danced to the warm voice singing as if just for her.

 _Someday when I'm awfully low_  
When the world is cold  
I will feel a glow just thinking of you  
And the way you look tonight.

Still dressed in his Green Arrow gear, he snuck up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist and without flinching, she simply leaned back into his chest. He tipped his head so it was bent beside hers, closed his eyes and swept around the room with her in his arms. So comfortable and so warm, she felt just right against him. He could smell the soft scent of raspberries on her hair and the faint lingering vanilla of her body wash. Her free hand rose, palm placed against his cheek. She was humming beneath her breath, low and sweet to his ears.

 _Oh, but you're lovely with your smile so warm_  
And your cheek so soft  
There is nothing for me but to love you  
And the way you look tonight.

She turned around suddenly and dropped her wine glass on a nearby counter. Her arms wrapped around his neck, head turning to lean against his chest, ear over his heart as they continued to dance. His arms were slung low on her waist, hands at the small of her back, his fingers splayed lower over her butt. The thick Excelsior sweater seemed to swamp her, but make her look utterly beautiful at the same time. It was nights like this, where she waited to help him unwind, that made everything worth it.

 _With each word your tenderness grows_  
Tearing my fear apart  
And that laugh that wrinkles your nose  
touches my foolish heart

Her hands slid down from around his neck, palms pressing against his shoulder and fingers splaying out as her hands journied down his firm chest and slid around his ribs, holding onto him with a strong grip, as if to remind him that she was there and she wasn’t going anywhere. One of his hands moved up the center of her back, fingers grazing her neck before they buried in her hair. He’d had a hard, long night. There was always a sense of having done something right when he was done, but an emptiness followed. As if it were all for nothing; he’d just have to do it again tomorrow. But then he’d see her. So welcoming and proud and loving as she stood in his apartment and he was reminded of why he did it every day. She was worth that; just to be sure that one less person was out there, able to harm her or anybody like her.

 _Lovely, never, never change_  
Keep that breathless charm  
Won't you please arrange it?  
'Cause I… I love you  
Just the way you look tonight. 

She pulled back from him, taking his hand and he knew to twirl her then, smiling at her as she grinned up at him and tipped her head back. He stared down at her; her cheeks flushed, her hair pulled back in a simply ponytail. No make up, no hair products, nothing but her. And she was beautiful. Her hands reached up, landing on either side of his face. Her back was arched slightly and his hands pressed against her, pulling her closer as he leaned down to kiss her. Her eyes fell to half mass as his mouth met hers and he kept her gaze as long as he could. But as her tongue twined with his, the sensation had his eyes closing and his body leaning forward to meet hers. There was something intoxicating about her.

_Mmm mmm, Mmm mmm_

_Just the way you look tonight…_

The song played out in the background, turning off and leaving them in silence. He felt her hands drift lower, undoing the zipper of his leather vest and shedding it. She pulled his gloves and forearm guards off, tossing them to the couch. The bands that circled his biceps were tugged down, her nails grazing his arm sensually. His belt, equipped with all of his extra gadgets was undone and dropped to the floor. She nibbled his bottom lip as her hands slid into the waist of his green leather pants and she lifted up to her tip toes, pressing herself into him. Taking his cue, his hands slid lower, cupping the back of her thighs and lifting her up until her legs were wrapped tight around him. Avoiding the gear on the floor, he carried her to their bedroom, not even closing the door behind him as he dropped her down on the bed.

He kicked his boots off, hearing them thunk against the ground behind him as he knelt on the bed over her. Her hand pressed against his abdomen, sliding higher, up his chest and over his shoulder to curl around his neck. He could feel her fingers, stroking his skin and a shiver ran down his spine. Staring down at her, the million and one reasons why he should let her go entered his mind. And then she smiled and they all seemed to drift away. “Is the city safe and secure, Arrow?” she asked, voice low.

“For tonight,” he replied.

“So you’re free and clear until tomorrow, hm?”

He smirked. “Looks that way.”

“What ever are you going to do in the time between?” she asked, her voice cheeky.

He reached out, brushing her bangs from her face. “I’ll find something.”

Her hand covered his as it cupped her cheek. “I’ll help.”

His body lowered on top of hers, one hand sliding the sweater up to her hips. Her legs parted, cradling him naturally. His mouth met hers and he could feel her content sigh.

For a long time, he hadn’t thought he’d ever have anything like this. Love seemed an ungraspable emotion that evaded him at all costs. His life, his secret, his beliefs, they all kept him from having anything similar. He’d ended relationships, lost out on love, and nearly given up entirely. He didn’t think he’d find somebody who could understand and stand by him, not like she did now. She cleaned up his wounds and soothed his fears. She stood next to him in battle or as a voice in his ear, directing him along. She trusted in his measures and supported his ideas of justice. There were complications, there always were. He still jetted around the world and she commuted to Smallville and Metropolis. Their relationship was hidden away in his apartment or various Hotels around the world when he could sweep her away for a vacation, just the two of them. And there were fights, of course; she didn’t like being hidden away and she felt that the risk was worth it. But her life meant more to him that anything and he didn’t want to show the world, because he knew of its cruelty and dark nature.

The last of his clothes were shed and he lifted his sweater up and off her, revealing her creamy bare flesh beneath. His hand traced the curve of her shoulder, fingers splaying out over her collar before trailing down to the valley of her breasts. Soft but firm, a pale white with dusky pink centers. His fingers stroked the soft skin of her flesh, mouth quirking as goosebumps spread across her and her breathing picked up. His head ducked, pressing lingering kisses to her stomach, tongue delving into her navel. Her ribs were ticklish so as his hands skimmed them, she laughed lowly, her body shivering. He smiled; so familiar with that laugh now.

He couldn’t remember exactly what brought them to this point. They were teammates one minute and lovers the next, as if it were just part of the process; a natural path for them to follow. It fit them well, though. Complications aside, they met on a wavelength that had long alluded him in his relationships. She understood the life of a hero and didn’t hold it against him. Instead, she stood by him and fought for the same things. It was rare to find and a large part of him wanted to hold on to her as tight as he could, while a much smaller and more speculative part of him said that her position in his life, his heart, made her a dangerous part of the equation. Were anybody to find out about them, about her connection to either Green Arrow or Oliver Queen, she could be used against him. And he knew, despite his heroic tendencies, that if it came down to her or the world, he’d choose her. The hero in him said it was wrong; that he should pick the world, as dark and unsafe as it was, over the woman who opened herself up to him and worked her ass off for justice and rightness. But he knew what would happen and it didn’t paint the right picture.

He sunk into her, once again thinking to himself it would be the last time. That he’d talk to her, lay out the reasons she was better off without him, and then they’d be over and no one would be the wiser. Their hands entwined against the bedspread and her legs wrapped tight around his waist. Her hips rose and fell, twisting and turning, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her skin was so soft beneath his mouth, like warm silk. He put all of himself into that moment. When his lips kissed her skin, they caressed and loved each inch they touched. When his hands stroked her hips, her thighs, her breasts, her hair, they treated it all as if it were the most special moment ever had. He relished in each stuttered breath that left her chest, each moan she made, each whisper and whimper of his name that exited those lips. She was so warm and wet and perfect around him and he didn’t want to leave; ever.

She turned them over, hands stroking down his neck, over his shoulders, along his arms. Her mouth trailed from his waist, up, teeth following to nip and tongue soothing away each mark she made. Her hair slid against him, soft and ticklish against his skin. One of her hands pressed against his chest, sitting over his heart. His hand covered hers as her hips rocked against him, her back arched, breasts pressed up beautifully and head thrown to the side. The moonlight filtered in, highlighting her as she sat above him, so beautiful.

He could feel her clenching around him and her stomach tensed. Her other hand buried in her hair before sliding down her front, grazing her breast. He bit his lip, watching the flush of her skin with half-lidded eyes. His hand slid between her legs, stroking her wet heat as she sped up against him, tightening and quivering. He flipped them over abruptly, smiling as she stared up at him with a startled expression before she grinned, mouth falling open in a cry as he thrust into her deeper, harder, faster. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, nails digging into his back. He kissed her collar, making his way up her neck and hovering over her mouth. He could feel her breath panting against his lips and her eyes opened, staring into his. Such a vivid green, his favorite color; strong and loving as they met his gaze.

He watched as her face twisted with ecstasy, neck straining as her head leaned back. Her body lifted up to press against his, hips rotating, nails raking down his back. She cried his name, over and over, in a breathy whisper, a broken whimper, a loving sigh. He kissed down her neck, sucking at her pulse point as he slid in and out of her, his pace erratic. Her body was tense against him, her heat quivering tightly. He fell over the edge within seconds, his face buried against her neck, his hand holding tight to hers.

And then he said something he knew he shouldn’t. He couldn’t take it back, couldn’t _go_ back. He couldn’t say goodbye or make excuses about why they shouldn’t be together, not when he was whispering those three words against her slick skin and kissing her desperately. “I love you.”

She held onto him tightly, arms around his shoulders and her hand delving into his hair.

And he kept saying it, as if he wasn’t sure she heard him, didn’t quite believe him, had to make sure it was known.

They laid there for awhile, her beneath him, body wrapped around him tight but comfortable. He finally turned them over on their sides, arm slung over her waist, hand sliding up and down her back. She stroked his hair, staring into his eyes patiently. “You wanna talk about it?” she asked, as if knowing that he’d been in turmoil all night.

“Things will never be normal with us,” he told her quietly.

She nodded slowly, knowingly.

“I don’t know if we can ever get married or have kids or even go out in public together.” He shook his head. “It’s all complicated. There’re too many ways people can put together the puzzle.”

She lay silently, letting him speak.

“I hate that it feels like I have to choose between being a hero and loving you. Because most of me is going to make the selfish choice,” he whispered, eyes falling.

“I’m not asking you to choose,” she told him, her fingers tracing the side of his voice.

“I know.” He swallowed. “But it’s part of the job description.”

She sighed. “You’re Oliver Queen by day and Chloe Sullivan is in love with you.” She covered his lips with her thumb. “You’re Green Arrow by night and Watchtower is in love with you.” She shook her head. “Nothing’s going to change that.” She bit her lip, swallowing tightly. “If you choose that both Oliver Queen and Green Arrow must both cut themselves off entirely, then I’ll accept that. Not because my feelings have changed, but because I believe in you and what you want more than anything.” She nodded slowly, stroking his chin. “Maybe you do have a choice to make. But it doesn’t have to be one or the other. Precautions can be taken if we were ever found out. And it’ll happen.” She smiled rather sadly. “It always does.” She licked her lips. “You can’t spend your whole life worrying about whether or not those you love are in danger. I’d be in danger with or without you there. You make it a little safer each night but there are people out there who want me dead whether or not I’m with you and that’s not going to change.”

“I don’t want to add to the list.”

“Did you ever think I was safer with you?” She lifted a brow. “Here I have a hero right beside me, ready to don the shining armor. Without you, I’m on my own.” Her mouth quirked. “I’m not defenseless… but I’m more of a behind-the-scenes hero.”

He lifted his hand, placing it over the curve of her cheek. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Then don’t push me away,” she whispered.

“It’s not that easy.”

“It is.” She nodded. “You’re right; everything in our lives is complicated. But you have me now and you can either have me or not. If I die, I die. That’s nobodies fault but the person who killed me. Nobody would blame you, but you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he told her, shaking his head. “It’s always weighing on my mind. I can’t be level; I can’t make the right choice when I’m always wondering how it will affect you.”

“The hero in you will make the right choice. I don’t expect you to pick me. If I were in your place, I hope I’d pick the world over me.” She shook her head. “But you can’t expect that you’ll never get attached. If it came down to Bart or the world, you’d be conflicted. It’s natural. You want to save everyone and some of those people matter more to you than others. You’re human. All of us but Clark are.” She chuckled, her eyes softening as she smiled at him. “I’m with you now and I want to stay with you. The only question being asked now, the only decision you have to make, is whether you want to be with me.”

“What if I can never make the big commitment? In the long run, I might never be able to give you everything you deserve.”

She shook her head, her expression tender. “If every night were like this, with nobody knowing that you came home to me, I wouldn’t ever feel like my life went unfinished. I don’t need the world to know you love me, as long as I know you love me.”

His hand slid down her face, fingers stroking her neck lightly before he reached behind her to the bed side table and tugged something out from it. She turned quizzical eyes toward the trinket in his hand. “I can’t guarantee a ring one day, or a public gesture,” he told her, dangling a ribbon in front of her holding an old-style key at the end. “But I can guarantee that you have my heart.” He smirked. “It’s cheesy, I know. But there’s only one key and I want you to have it. Always.”

“Key to your heart,” she murmured. She smiled, her eyes becoming slightly watery. “It’s a bigger gesture than you think.”

“Will you have it?” he asked, voice low.

She looked up at him, expression soft. “And if I take it, it’s mine? Forever?”

“Forever.”

“You realize that makes _you_ mine, right,” she teased, her mouth quirking.

He laughed, nodding.

She licked her lips. “And if I never want to let you go?”

“Then I’ll hold onto you forever,” he replied.

She lifted up her hair and he tied the ribbon loosely around her neck, the key falling comfortably between her breasts. “Perfect,” she murmured.

He smirked, hands sliding up to cover her breasts. “I’m certainly not complaining.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes and falling onto her back as he slid on top of her. Her hand raised, fingers swiping through his hair and sitting on the back of his neck. “I love you.”

He kissed her, cradling her top lip between his. “I love you, too.” He hugged her to him, her body cuddling against his chest, arms wrapping around him. “Besides, we could always run away to Vegas and nobody would be the wiser.”

“Yeah, because that worked out so well for Britney,” she replied with a snicker.

He laughed, shaking his head. “We’ll figure out something.”

She nodded, leaning her head against him contently. “Yeah and for now we can just enjoy the rush of not yet getting caught.”

“We’re going to have to be more careful.” He frowned. “Victor almost walked in on us in the office.”

She chuckled. “Well, at least Bart was oblivious when we were showering and he needed the bathroom.”

He scowled. “He still flushed.”

She smiled. “I’m surprised Clark hasn’t caught on though. Sensitive hearing and all.”

“He’s been distracted lately. I think he has a thing for Dinah,” he informed her, brows lifting.

“Dinah,” she said, amused. “That’ll be interesting.”

“Yeah, wait ‘til Lois finds out.”

Chloe’s expression widened and she bit her lip. “When that explodes, we should go on vacation,” she suggested.

“What? And miss the show?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with Bart.”

He shrugged, nodding as he smirked.


	137. Those Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you love me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated **NC-17** for explicit sexual content.

“ _It’s easy to fall in love. The hard part is finding someone to catch you_.”  
– **Bertrand Russell**

Those words always welled up in moments like these. This had never been defined; not really. He was there and she was there and they were there together. She couldn’t remember exactly what led them here; to this moment where things were long past just a stress reliever. Did people know? No. They suspected sure. It was a little hard to miss. The sexual chemistry was raw and strong and worth a shiver just from someone sensing it. They had been friends long before she found out what his silk green sheets felt like beneath her bare back. Before she knew how incredible a lover he could really be. It wasn’t just some passing gossip from Lois now, no, she was experiencing it all for herself. His mouth worked magic and not only on her lips. She could get lost in his touch and she did, often. At first it was just to get past the regret and the remorse of their hidden job that didn’t always turn out the way they wanted. Of watching the world drain down the proverbial toilet, over and over again; losing innocent people to the likes of Lex and his labs. Blowing off steam and working off adrenaline highs was a whole lot easier when it was with somebody they could trust and rely on to be there, wholly, without complaint. But then it wasn’t just sex, it was clandestine meetings on rooftops and talking over wine and dinner. Sometimes they didn’t get past cuddling on the couch or kissing sleepily in his bed before falling drifting off out of exhaustion.

Half his dresser was filled with her clothes and he always managed to trip over her heels when he got up in the morning. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw her apartment and she rather liked it that way. They had the weekend to themselves; no Watchtower or Green Arrow and no business meetings or deadlines for the Daily Planet. It was a vacation spent in the shadows of his apartment. She couldn’t remember how this one started. They’d been talking about something and the next thing she knew she was lifted up on the edge of his desk, where she usually sat to play Watchtower during the evenings. Her skirt was hiked up around her waist and her blouse was long gone, thrown away somewhere she could care less.

He was suckling her neck, face buried against her shoulder as one of his hands tangled in her hair while the other delicately traced down the curve of her back. She was arched up into him, taut as a bow. He unclasped her bra and tossed it away, freeing her heaving chest to his exploring hands. Her thighs were parted widely, legs tensing with want against his sides. His shirt was untucked and she didn’t bother with unbuttoning it, instead tearing it open, smiling shakily as the buttons flew off to fall against the hard floor beneath them. She felt him chuckle lowly against her neck before he nipped at her tender skin, making her bite down on her lip as she whimpered.

Her nails dragged down his back, kneading at his hard flesh as she drew closer to his jeans. She slid them around to the front and undid the button easily, pushing them down his legs, using her feet to get them out of the way entirely. God, he was so hard, everywhere. Muscled and tense, incredibly warm to the touch. Desire pooled desperately between her thighs and she found herself rocking closer to him.

Seven months this had been going on and still they hadn’t said anything about it. She’d seen Lois’ speculative glances and Clark’s questioning expressions. She’d noticed the way AC, Bart and Victor all seemed to smirk at her in a certain way, as if they knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as she got near Oliver. He talked to her differently now. Always closer than he would any other team member; whispering deeply against her ear. He touched her more intimately than he probably should in front of the others. Always brushing her hair from her eyes or tracing the curve of her neck absently. And he never simply kissed her cheek in greeting or farewell like he did with Lois or Dinah when he hadn’t seen them in awhile. He kissed the side of her mouth, sometimes square on her lips depending on who was near them. And when he hugged her, he kissed the shell of her ear, burying his nose in her hair. He held onto her longer, as if centering himself in her arms, finding his stability there.

So when she found she was doing the same thing; kissing his chin instead of his cheek, running her hands through his hair randomly, and leaning into talk to him when there was no need to, she realized things had changed dramatically. She shouldn’t have slept with him in the first place, but now she had and she realized she couldn’t walk away. It wasn’t just the amazing sex, but the intimacy between them. The way he talked to her in the darkness of the room, quiet and honest, as if he meant for only her to hear him, despite the empty surroundings. How he held her; so tight and strong and possessive sometimes. And the way he looked at her; those eyes beating into her in a way that made her bite her lip and shift on her feet. Such deep, dark eyes; they always seemed to be saying something that she couldn’t quite decipher. He never looked at anybody else like that.

When she enjoyed simply napping with him, alarm bells went off. When she found the silences didn’t swallow her whole with him, she knew she was in trouble. When he could make her a cup of coffee without asking her what she liked in it, she knew she was beyond help.

And here she was again, wondering and waiting for the answer she knew he wouldn’t say unless she asked. But did she really want the answer? She’d put it off too long and she’d done enough avoiding when she was younger. This was Oliver, not Clark. His mouth trailed away from her neck and down her chest, wrapping around a tight, pebbled pink nipple and sucking on it deliciously. His rough palms slid down her back and drew her closer to the edge of the desk, where she could feel his proud erection against her wet entrance. Her head fell back and her breathing became labored as he brushed himself against her teasingly. Her eyes fluttered, a broken moan escaping her.

He thrust in deep, taking her with no hesitancy. She remembered then that he never did anything without thinking it through; it was just the way he was. What did that say about all this then?

Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to focus outside of the pleasurable feelings erupting inside. She asked the question that plagued her day by day.

“Do you love me?” she asked as he slid deep inside of her, his hardness thrusting against her quivering walls delightfully.

She felt his mouth detach from her breast and then his whiskered jaw against her chin. She opened her eyes to see him, despite the fear clenching inside of her.

“You know I do,” he panted, eyes half shut and jaw clenched in agonizing pleasure.

She felt her fear dissipate and her usual curiosity taking hold. “How much?” she queried, biting down on her lip, hard, as he slid into her so far she felt as though the world tilted.

“Why?” he asked, kissing her neck feverishly, his lips like liquid heat against her skin.

She shook her head, trying to find her bearings. This was a bad time to have this conversation, she knew. She was too easy to distract when it came to his mouth. “You never say it,” she moaned, eyes fluttering.

“You know I feel it,” he murmured and she could hear the insecurity behind the words, despite his hard and confident strokes inside of her.

“Do you know how I feel?” she wondered; only now realizing that she’d never said it to him either. She assumed he knew, what with how she’d been with him. Her emotions had always been worn on her face, her heart on her sleeve. How could he not know?

He didn’t reply, instead burying his forehead against her neck, nipping at her collar off and on. His hands gripped her hip and her thigh, fingers kneading at her.

She threw her head back wantonly; her breath stuttering as she felt him readjust only slightly, just enough to brush her clit with each stroke.

“Oh god,” she gasped in heavenly ecstasy.

One of her hands rose up his tensed and sweaty back, gripping his hair and tugging him so his face was level with hers. She tightened her legs around his waist and brought his mouth toward hers. She kept her eyes locked on him and she saw that same looks he could never quite figure out staring back at her; so deep and longing. She kissed his lips gently, soft and sweet; an obvious difference from the frenzied way their hips met and separated, only to collide once more. Her insides felt like a hot coil, ready to spring apart at any second, barely being held together, so close to the edge. She could feel his shoulders bunching up and his brow was furrowing in the same way it always did just before he came. He gripped her thighs, still holding her gaze, his jaw tight as he kept from burying his face in her shoulder and thrusting into her without the added intimate baggage.

“I love you,” she told him, her voice a breathless whisper.

Their noses were touching and she watched as he swallowed tightly, looking almost scared and uncertain. And then he was kissing her, deep and thorough, just as the explosion of colors covered her eyes in a brilliant and glorious feeling of ecstasy. Her eyes fell shut and she tightened all around him, her breath leaving her in a rush. She clutched at his body, so hard and strong, trying to take some of that strength and will herself to keep going, on and on through the endless streams of pleasure that shook her to her core. She felt ready to pass out; it was so overwhelming. But he was there with her, his hands pressed against her back, fingers almost biting into her skin. His mouth, tender and soft against her neck now. She could feel his hair brushing against her sensitized skin and she gasped for air, her body still shaking. The rest of the world seemed non-existent; it was just him and her and them. And she liked it that way.

“I love you too,” he whispered against her shoulder. He pulled back slightly, lifting his chin to stare into her eyes. Those words; so beautiful and brilliant and true. One of his large, calloused palms rose to cup her cheek, his thumb swiping beneath her eye to wipe away a tear she hadn’t even realized she’d cried. “I love you too,” he repeated. And then he was kissing her and holding her and she found in that moment nothing else mattered. It was all she needed, all he needed, and the rest could wait. Explanations and fessing up to their friends, it could be done later. Recon and work and traipsing across roof tops could wait just one more minute. Because this was their time, alone but together. With nothing but their heavy breathing filling the room and those words echoing all around. She stroked his back tenderly, her face pressed against his damp chest, heartbeat racing beneath her cheek. She didn’t need anything more than that.


	138. These Games We Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, she knew she'd have to give in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mature**

Oh he was good! Really, _really_ good. And she wasn't _only_ talking about the rippling muscles he was sporting now, nicely sculpted by the grease from his motorcycle as he diligently worked beneath it to tune it up. They'd been playing this game for far too long and she knew she could call it quits, but since her eyes were still riveted to the sight of him and her mouth had failed to work up anything remotely snarky, she was a sinking ship with nothing but a white sail to admit defeat.

He'd called her over for League business and she'd dressed appropriately; ignoring the fact that she stood in front of her closet for nearly an hour just trying to figure out what outfit would mean business and still flatter her. She wouldn't admit to herself that she wanted him to _want_ her. Even if he already knew. He'd given her the charming, knowing smirk and he'd flat out told her in the past that he saw something with her, and Oliver Queen never walked away from something he wanted. If she were being honest, he wasn't someone she wanted to walk away from. She didn't like ignoring the fact that he looked at her in every way she wished a man would. There was passion in his eyes, mixed entirely with a devotion he shouldn't yet feel. But he did and she knew that it wasn't misplaced.

Three years they'd been working together; saving the world, he called it. And she'd fallen victim to the uplifting and verging on cheesy speeches of his, even if Clark hadn't. She'd taken up the moniker of Watchtower full time and she didn't regret it. She left the Daily Planet in the hands of Lex Luthor, sadly, but she knew her place wasn't there anymore. She worked behind the computer most of the time, researching and commanding and keeping her rather headstrong friends from being killed. And somewhere along the way, her relationship with Oliver changed. She spent most of her time with him, throwing ideas back and forth and working together. Nearly a year ago, she finally noticed what Lois had been telling her. She meant more to Oliver than just another teammate. But she refused to let it become anything more than just a passing interest. She figured when he realized she wasn't returning the feelings, he'd give up and move on. But then he was confronting her...

_"You're a great actress, Sidekick. For the longest time there, I really thought you just weren't interested." He had appeared next to her as she looked through papers at her Watchtower station of his apartment. Given her job and the people she knew, she wasn't even startled._

_"Interested?" she repeated, feigning confusion. "In what?"_

_He smiled, almost amused. "See I wasn't sure if it was my past with Lois that just turned you off from me or if I just wasn't your type. But then..." He lifted a shoulder. "I realized I didn't care."_

_She furrowed her brow, frowning._

_"I've been a ‘do whatever it takes' kind of man for too long to start giving up when it matters." He reached out, his warm, calloused palm cupping her face. She almost wanted to shake the thought from her that it fit her face so perfectly it was as if it were made specifically for that purpose, but that would be giving her thoughts away to him, and so she played as though she didn't notice the warmth or the perfect fit, or the gentle way he seemed to cradle her cheek, stroking it tenderly with his thumb. "People like us, people like **you** are hard to find in this world. I look at you and all I can think is how I wish there were more people like you; with that drive and that curiosity and that warmth." He shook his head, his mouth lifting with a smile. "And I don't know when it was, but I stopped admiring you and started adoring you." He lifted his brow and she tried to ignore the way her heart sped up. "So we've really only got two choices here..."_

_She bit the inside of her cheek and quirked a brow._

_"You can either admit that you want me to and that we'd be great together." He stared at her square on, all the confidence she'd ever known to be part of him spilling forth in his gaze and his stance. "Give us a try." He smirked then. "Or you can continue to pretend that you don't feel it too, and I'll just be forced to prove you wrong."_

_Of course, Chloe Sullivan had been stubborn since birth. It's what made her such a great reporter. And she refused to believe that her happily ever after was in the midst of the chaos, in the form of Oliver Queen. She lifted her chin, pulling her cheek from his grasp. "I think you've been watching too much of the W channel, Queen." She pursed her lips. "Whatever you see between us? Product of an overactive imagination." She nodded, stepping back slightly. "Happens to a lot of heroes, I'm sure."_

_He grinned, hand falling back to his side. "Well, everything worthwhile wasn't won in a day."_

_She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. "There'll be no winning of this reporter." She reached out and pat his shoulder in a mocking manner, swallowing tightly when her hand wanted to linger and feel the strength beneath the casual t-shirt he wore. God, why did he have to be so damn handsome? "No worries, I'm sure you'll find your damsel in distress one day."_

_He still had that infuriatingly amused expression on. "You're no damsel and you'll come around one day." He was so sure that she almost nodded._

_She licked her lips, hating the way her throat went dry with his promise. "Don't hold your breath." She walked away then, before he could affect her anymore. She couldn't help it though and she glanced over her shoulder, only to see him watching her as she left. And it wasn't to stare at the sway of her hips or the curve of her butt. His eyes were raised level with her own, as if he knew she'd look back. She turned away before she drowned in those brown eyes. She had no idea how often she'd think of them in future._

She heard a throat clear and blinked her dazed eyes to bring her back to the present. She found Oliver standing in front of her, a rag between his hands, trying to wipe the grime away. She swallowed tightly. He wasn't doing anything to clear his arms of it and some cheeky part of her thought of the suggestion that she should definitely get his shirt in the wash with some bleach or it could stain. Of course, that would make her privy to the glorious sight of a half-naked Oliver. A sight she'd seen all too often, though she only verbally protested, despite her insides always wanting to see more.

"Hey Petal," he greeted with a grin. Her heart skipped a beat; that nickname of his always did that to her. It just made her feel so delicate and feminine. For so long she'd just been the sidekick, the rather quirky and not so gentle girl of the group. But it awoke that female inside of her, the one that was so often overlooked as just a friend, a pal, a confidante.

His voice brought her back once more. "You're earlier than I expected."

She glanced at the clock. "I'm right on time."

He lifted a shoulder. "Exactly. Even _Bart_ is late for meetings and he obviously has no speed issues."

"Yeah, well..." She cleared her throat uncomfortably, eyes turning off. "You said there was something important we needed to discuss."

He nodded, tossing the rag back to his bike and walking off toward the kitchen. "Coffee first?"

She readily agreed; maybe it would calm her nerves.

He poured a mug for both of them, adding the right ingredients as if he didn't even have to think twice and then she was wrapping her hands around hers, taking its warmth and centering herself. She tried not to look at him as much as her eyes begged to. He sat across from her, one hand wrapped around the mug while the other one sat unused, palm flat against the countertop. She took a sip of her coffee, relishing in the awesome taste that always made her insides melt. She let her eyes flit up to his face and that was another strike against her. He was smiling, that soft, all knowing smile of his. As if he knew what she was trying to do and he wasn't going to let it happen for much longer. She had to admit, some part of her realized that defeat was imminent and she'd have to give in to his growing affections because her own had long ago accepted that he was so... _right_ for her.

The rest of the League new; he wasn't exactly hiding it. The first time he called her petal in front of them, Clark choked on his coffee and Lois grinned outright. She was very much pro-Oliver in regards to her cousin, which made things a little weird. Chloe obviously couldn't use Lois as an excuse not to date him when she so readily agreed Chloe should. Bart, in a dramatic display, let Oliver know that while the better man had _not_ won, a good one was obviously vying for Chloe and he'd step down. Chloe had rolled her eyes and told them they could have _each other_ because she wasn't interested in either. AC and Victor apparently had a bet going as to how long it'd be before she caved in; it was Victor's month.

He wasn't afraid to use her relationships with them against her, either. When the League was out of town and she couldn't go along for whatever reason, Oliver sent Bart back with flowers or a trinket from wherever they were. " _For my leader's lady_ ," he'd say in a faux British accent that always made her laugh. AC often asked her if she was busy on weekends, always suggesting dinner and then telling her Oliver would meet her at a certain restaurant. Victor just straight out told her to put him out of his misery and be with him already. Clark passed on the odd message, getting used to Oliver's interest in her and her avoidance of it after a few months. " _Oh, and Oliver said he misses you and he hopes you'll get over your stubborn streak soon_ ," he'd tell her casually after visiting with Oliver. And then he'd just continue on, as if it were all normal. She'd grown oddly used to it as well. In fact, if Oliver didn't pass on a message, she found she missed it.

With each day, her resolve was diminishing. The reasons why they shouldn't be together got shorter and the reasons they should quadrupled. It wasn't that she didn't have feelings for him, because she did. He was everything she looked for in a man. She just didn't know if the shine would wear off and one day they'd fall apart, making their work relationship suffer. She'd always believed she was supposed to be a reporter, but she knew now that she was always meant to be Watchtower. And she didn't want to risk that for a relationship with someone she wasn't sure could really work.

"Still fighting it?" he asked, calmly.

She let her eyes fall once more and sighed. "I'm not fighting anything. You should just learn to accept that not every woman on the planet dreams of falling at your feet."

He smirked, shaking his head. "You'd never fall at my feet and I'd never expect you to." He reached out, took her hand off from around her cup and pulled it over to lie against the counter between them. He played with her fingertips before turning her hand completely over and tracing each line, slow and oddly sensual. "How long has this been going on now?" He lifted a brow. "Ten, eleven months?"

_Ten months, three weeks, two days._

"Something like that, yeah," she replied, her voice low.

"You've put up a good fight." She rolled her eyes and he grinned. "I expected no less, but..." He sighed. "I figured my awesome charm would wear you down earlier."

She turned her eyes away. "I expected you to give up earlier."

He shook his head, leaning back slightly. "I don't give up. Ever."

She lifted a brow, returning her gaze to his, challenging. "There's a thing called bowing out gracefully. Ever heard of it?"

He smirked. "Some things are too important to just let go of."

She shook her head. "You're putting too much stock in me, Queen. You've got a whole lot of heart, but not much evidence to back up your theory."

He licked his lips, thumb drawing across her palm. "Why are you so sure we won't work out?" he wondered, eyes set down on her hand.

"Why are you so sure we _will_?"

He lifted his eyes to hers. "I asked you first."

She snorted, trying not to smile. "My background speaks for itself."

He cocked his brow. "Your background involves a whole lot of meteor freaks." He grinned. "I guarantee," he lifted his free hand and placed it over his heart, "that I was nowhere near Smallville during either meteor shower and haven't been infected by any meteors since that unfortunate incident many years ago. I'm _not_ under the influence of anything but your smile."

She couldn't help it; she grinned. "You can't charm your way through this," she told him, shaking her head.

"Why not?" He grinned knowingly. "Are you telling me you're completely immune?"

 _Not even a little_.

"Totally and entirely," she lied.

"So when I do this," he said quietly, the tips of his fingers dragging over her wrist, across her pulse. "You feel nothing?" She shook her head jerkily. "And when I tell you how beautiful you are? How when you smile, I feel like I have to too. Or that your eyes are the most incredible shade of green... It gives me a whole new reason to call it my favorite." His eyes never wavered from hers, his tone completely strong and stable; honest. "You don't feel anything?" She bit her lip, trying to tell her head to shake, but it wouldn't. He rose from his seat and walked around the island, holding onto her hand the whole way. He came to a stop behind her, turning her stool until her back was against the counter. His face fell forward, their noses touching. "And I were to kiss you, right now..."

She felt her breath leave her and her eyes drooped slightly. _Anticipation._

He leaned forward and she tried to convince herself it was better if she turned away, but she didn't move. And then his lips were against hers, soft and warm and so _perfect_. And his hands were slipping up her back, fingers bent forward, holding tight to her. One hand buried deep in her hair, drawing her head up closer, keeping their mouths together, while the other slid down her neck, thumb stroking the skin of her throat, her chest, warming her down to her toes. Her mouth parted in a gasp and his tongue took advantage, trailing over the roof of her mouth before tangling with hers. She'd dreamt of this, during the nights she couldn't avoid the truth. But damn he was better than any trumped up dream could be.

Her hands couldn't stay still; they rose into the air, reaching for him. One clasped around his arm, so hard beneath her fingers and still slippery with grease, while the other found his cheek, the rough days worth of whiskers beneath her palm, so entirely sensual. Her fingertips sat just beneath his eye, feeling so right touching him. She didn't want to stop for breath and so she sucked in as much as she could each time his lips slanted over hers, as he suckled her top lip into his mouth, teeth grazing the underside of her upper lip. It was hot and intimate and beyond any kiss she'd ever experienced in her life. The build up just made it that much better. Too many days she'd spent staring at his mouth and wishing she could throw caution to the wind and just _experience_ him. His kiss, his touch, his voice whispering against her ear in the dead of night, with nothing but each other in the room and the rustle of sheets around them.

He broke away from her mouth and she let her head fall back slightly, taking in air to fill her aching, needy lungs. He kissed down her chin, small lingering brushes of his lips, along the curve of her jaw and up the side of her face to her temple. He kissed a path down and below her ear, across the bridge of her nose and back to her mouth, hovering over her lips as if waiting for her to take the reigns, to just accept that this was her defeat. She let her eyes open, met his gaze and she saw it there. It was no longer a game; there was no winner or loser. He wanted her, had for a long time. And he didn't want to play, didn't want to wait. He wanted her to accept him and the love he so obviously held for her. And she leaned forward, pressed her lips against his and told him with her most honest kiss that she felt it too, she wanted him too. She felt him sigh into her mouth, content, filled, thankful.

And then her hands were gripping his hair, tugging at his shirt. She wanted more; she wanted all of him. Her fingers slid against his grease stained skin, so hard and hot beneath her touch. He picked her up, sitting her on the edge of the counter and his hands fell to the rim of her shirt, slipping beneath to slowly spread along her back, as if memorizing her skin, her curves. All sound seemed to evade her; she could only hear her heavy heartbeat and their mixed panting. His mouth fell to her neck, kissing the gentle curve and suckling at her skin as if it were water for a dehydrated man. Still, the way he held her, despite the need and desire, it was so tender. He leaned forward, stepped closer, and her legs parted to wrap around him, to draw him in as close as he could get.

She bit down on her lip hard, trying to find some insight through the fog of her mind. Her eyes opened and she stared unseeing at the ceiling, her hands clutching at his shoulders, slipped beneath the white beater he wore, feeling each movement he made in the tense muscles of his back. One of his hands slid down from her back and found her knee, pushing her skirt up as it went, trailing over her thigh, squeezing as it slid higher. She felt her skirt pool around her waist as she lifted her bottom from the countertop. His long fingers had traveled higher and were wrapping around the rim of her lace panties, drawing along the line of them, across her stomach.

"This is so..." She couldn't find the word.

"Right," he breathed against her neck and then his fingers were exploring her folds, running up and down her slit, delving into her wet center and massaging her most intimate area. She felt so exposed and yet so protected. The warmth of his hand, the knowing feel of his fingers, as if they were meant to touch her, to bring her to the highest of heights. She felt so filled with him touching her, so _possessed_ by him in that moment. For so long she'd ignored the way his eyes followed her, how they trained on her every movement, as if relishing in her curvaceous but petite figure. But she'd close her eyes and think of the heat in his gaze some nights and her fingers would wander to where his were now and she'd bite down hard on her lip and tell herself it was natural to think of his face and his fingers and his body against hers. But it was only ever him. There was no one else. She dreamt of, thought of, wanted, nobody but him. He invaded her every desire, her every thought, and she wanted to complain but couldn't.

Her hands fell down from his shoulders, bunching his white shirt up beneath her palms, drawing it up until she could feel the warm skin of his back. Fingertips kneaded into him, scraped at his back, wanting to feel every rigid muscle beneath her grip. And then she was drawing it up and over his head, pulling it down his arms, until it sat at the wrist of only one, the same one that had its hand buried deep beneath her skirt. She ran her hands down his front, so lithe and still stained with that damned grease that made her mouth water and her senses flee her entirely. She was doomed from the moment she stepped inside and saw him. Or maybe she'd been doomed to this incredible moment from the second she met him in Clark's barn. Even then... _Wow_. But he'd been Lois's then and she forgot all about any kind of fantasies that involved the blond billionaire sharing her bed instead. Then things changed though and he wasn't with Lois, but he was still the fiercely protective leader of the Justice League, watching over the world as it should be. And she stood next to him, his ever faithful Watchtower. The woman who, for reasons unknown to her, stole his heart.

"This can't..." she murmured, shaking her head.

His mouth had fallen from her neck and was now delving between the valley of her breasts, parting her blouse easily to explore the creamy expanse of her skin. He parted from her for only a second, "If you tell me this can't happen, I'm going to laugh. Hysterically. And eventually, you're going to have to sign me up for a straightjacket."

She snorted, shaking her head, eyes falling to half mass.

His mouth was right back to the curves of her breasts, exploring and kissing and tenderly brushing his nose over her, so delicately she almost couldn't feel it. But she did and she didn't want to forget that feeling. So intimate. His hands lifted to the shoulders of her blouse and drew it down; she immediately regretted the loss of his fingers between her thighs. The soft fabric fell to the curve of her elbows and she appreciated laundry day for once. No bra, no hindrance, just complete freedom. His mouth ghosted over her breast, chin grazing the sensitive pebbled center. She took a stuttered breath.

"Tell me you can't feel it too, Petal," he whispered, his warmth breath a stark difference from the cool air against her bare skin.

She shook her head, biting down on her swollen, worried lip.

"Tell me you haven't wanted this."

She almost wanted to cry. She _wanted_ this; she _needed_ this.

Her hand slid into his hair, fingers twining with the soft blond strands. "This can't be a one off," she murmured. "This can't fall apart one day and I can't _not be_ Watchtower because of us." She shook her head. "I love my life and I don't want to lose it because you suddenly realize I'm not like Lois or some debutante. I'm just me, Oliver. I can't be anybody else." It felt so good to say it; to get those fears out and let them free, to take however he pleased.

His mouth paused against her. "I don't want anyone else." She let her eyes fall to meet his; those same warm brown eyes that made her all kinds of beautiful. "It's not a one off and I can't promise that it'll be perfect, but I know what I want and I know who I love."

She felt her heart clench and the words she so carefully ignored were right there at the end of her tongue. _Love_ ; an emotion that could hurt worse than anything. She'd seen him hurt, she'd seen him die. She'd given her life for his and she'd do it again. But she'd never get over how devoid of everything she felt when he laid dead before her. How lost she was when she thought she'd never see him smile or hear him laugh or just know that he was there. She'd grown used to the way he talked to her, how he hugged her or reached out to her, just to show her that he always saw her, was always thinking of her. That his feelings hadn't waned and she was still who he wanted and what he desired most. He never let her forget it, even if she constantly ignored his advances. But she did see them, hear them, acknowledged them inwardly. She knew what he felt; saw the way he was with her. It was hard to ignore something right in front of her.

She was his Petal; his delicate, beautiful _love_.

"And you will always be Watchtower," he murmured against her. "I would never, _could_ never, take that away from you. You were made to be a hero, Chloe. You were made for this life." He sighed softly. "You belong here."

She let a tear fall then and that last bit of reservation she had diminished entirely. She was lost to him. "When the game is over, what do the players do?"

She could feel his grin against her breast. "They celebrate."

She ran her fingers down his hair and across his back. "I like the sound of that."

He chuckled lightly before pulling back from her. His hands fell to the front of her blouse and easily popped the buttons open, parting it entirely and dragging it down her arms, the fabric ghosting over her skin softly until she sat in just her skirt, of which he slowly pulled down her legs, dropping it to the floor, forgotten. He slid his forefinger into the rim of her lace panties and ran it over her hip slowly, eyes staring directly into his. "This means you're done avoiding for good, right? You're not going to change your mind tomorrow?" He lifted a brow wonderingly.

Her hands reached out, falling to his waist and tugging him a little closer. "I'm stubborn as hell and when I make a decision, I stick to it. You're mine now." She winked. "You think you can handle it?"

He grinned, his hand raising to cup her cheek. He leaned forward and captured her lips. "I'm up for the challenge. Are you?" he asked as they parted just barely.

She nipped his lower lip. "Challenge is my middle name."

"Huh, always thought it was Trouble." He grinned, kissing her softly. "Or maybe Stubborn." He nuzzled her nose with his. "Sexy works too." He kissed down her neck, arms wrapping around her waist and picking her up from the counter. She tightened her legs around him and laughed at the sudden position change. He started walking back toward his bedroom, holding her easily in his arms. She played with his hair absently, her head tipped back, a content smile on her lips as he kissed down her collar to her breasts once more.

She briefly wondered if holding out was just a waste of time, but then decided that the reward in the end was better than she could've imagined. They'd played their game and she'd held out as long as she could, stubborn but wrong. She tried to convince herself they weren't meant for each other only to realize that there was no one else for either of them.

He laid her down on the bed before covering her, his hands twining with hers against the bed. His face hovered over hers, their lips so close but not touching. He smiled and there was something in his eyes then; triumph and honest to god gratitude. That she'd given in, that she was his now. He tipped his chin and brushed his mouth against hers, so soft it felt as though the air had kissed her.

"I love you," he whispered, his lips brushing against hers with each word.

She tipped her head up, their chins touching. "I love you too," she replied. Nothing had ever felt more true.


	139. This Crazy Life We Live Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver is tired of always having to put the most important person of his life on the backburner... He wants her to be with him, wherever he goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating** : NC17  
>  **Prompt** : Longing by shopgal08

He was late. By three hours, to be precise. He had promised to be back, had to pay extra to his jet captain just to get him out of bed and in the air. He ignored the ringing of his cell phone; work calling him back, needing him to answer billion dollar questions. He caught up with the team but didn't ask for an immediate meeting like usual; he told them to take the weekend off, go about their daily lives, just as long as it didn't involve him for the next two days. He knew he'd be dressed in the green leather tomorrow night, but for now, for this night, he refused to even look at his hidden room.

The candles had long melted away, the dinner she'd probably ordered in (rarely did either of them have time to cook) was cold and uneaten, left where she'd put it out on plates, expecting him hours ago. The stereo was still on, a CD playing out over the speakers, romantic and low but entirely ignored now. The apartment was dark and while in the back of his mind he knew exactly where her heels would be, she always left them in the same spot, he tripped over them anyway. And for some reason that made him smile; he guessed he would've been more worried had they not been there for him to trip over at all.

He heard the grumbling snore as the noise spurred Archie from his sleep and his hand lifted to pat the wet snout of his faithful dog who watched over his most precious of possessions. With a grumpy yawn, the German shepherd padded back to his makeshift bed next to the couch and plopped down, ignoring him now as he realized just who it was. Had it been an intruder of some sort, or anybody that Archie hadn't recognized, a jugular would've been ripped out and the alarms would be going off for the League to quickly answer to. But instead he laid his tired body back down on his bed and left his master to whatever it was he was doing as he walked through the dark living room, destination his bedroom.

As he slid through the door, closing it behind him, his mouth quirked and a quiet sigh escaped him. He'd done everything he could to get here on time; he'd waved money in the faces of anybody who could help him, pleaded his case a dozen different ways, but work and scheduling and just plain life had a way of laughing in his face. And so, here he stood, gazing at his girlfriend as she lay fast asleep in their bed, dressed in nothing but a pair of green lace panties.

_Welcome home_.

He leaned back against the door with something akin to disappointment. Years ago, he would've comforted himself with the fact that the world needed him more; that his heart could be ignored for now, that true love simply didn't exist or wasn't strong enough to outshine his idealistic ways. But as he stared down at her, all soft curves and blonde curls falling gently around her bare shoulders, he truly wished there'd been nothing in the way of him getting home. And he'd been prepared to ignore any and all hindrances to get to her.

_Happy Anniversary_.

Four years and she deserved much better than this. Three hours late, all her hard work for naught, an empty bed and a few apologetic messages on their voice mail. And he knew she'd forgive him, that she'd shrug, give him that smile and remind him that it was just another day in a lifetime of many... That they could celebrate it tomorrow or the day after or whenever life permitted. Because she didn't live for the big gestures or the significant dates, she cared more for having him when she could and enjoying what time they did have. Flying back and forth for work, both Queen Industries and League oriented, was tough and stressful and some days he wished he could shed the title, both public and hidden, put away his leather, sign his company off to someone capable, and steal her away to an island all their own. But he wouldn't and she wouldn't want him to and it was just another reason why they worked together so well.

His hands rose, fingers undoing each and every button on his rumpled green dress shirt. He'd been wearing his suit for twelve hours too long and after shedding his wrinkled pants and constricting coat he silently slid into the connecting bathroom and took a long, hot shower. He didn't bother shaving or dressing, simply towel drying off before he turned out the lights and snuck back into their bedroom. It was dark save for a sliver of moonlight cascading over her slumbering form. She had the mint sheet drawn up against her bare chest, the rest of her sprawled out and bare, the blanket kicked off and her face buried between a few pillows. She hadn't stirred since he came in, an unusual occurrence for her but he chalked it up to a long day. When he spoke to her earlier she'd admitted to the ISIS foundation driving her a little up the wall that day, too much paperwork and politics for her to deal with.

She'd said in no uncertain words that she missed him; missed his body next to her each night, his good morning and goodbye kisses each day, his arms that wrapped around her when she most needed it and just his generally being there. And all he'd replied with was, "Me too, Sidekick," hoping that she understood just how much longing was in those three words. Each night spend in another fancy Hotel just didn't cut it. The bed was too empty, too cold, and he found himself reaching for a body that wasn't there. He was tired of returning from work to an empty and unfamiliar room where there'd be no _Grey's Anatomy_ playing in the background, her current addiction, or a table of take-out boxes waiting for him to fill up on. He was sick of waking up to find a continental breakfast rather than inhaling the dark scent of her favorite coffee brewing in the kitchen. He wanted to be _home_ , with her, and it was becoming an obsession of his to try and find away to manage it.

As he crawled into bed next to her, he propped his head on one hand, lying on his side and gazing down at her. He reached out, brushed a tendril of hair from her shoulder, fingers lingering along her flesh, tracing up to the base of her neck. She shivered, her legs moving, stretching, but he could tell she was still fast asleep. He let his fingertips roam down her spine, following the curve to the small of her back. Her toes curled and his lips twitched knowingly. He spread his hand along her hip and traced the rim of her lace panties, watching as gooseflesh fanned out over her skin. He maneuvered down the bed easily and curled his fingers into the fabric before he leaned across and pressed a lingering kiss against her hipbone.

She made a tiny noise of encouragement and he knew she was waking up.

He drew her panties down an inch, kissed along her side and kneaded her thigh lightly. She twisted so she was turned slightly, her face coming out from the cover of the pillows, eyes almost entirely closed, a sleepy smile on her lips. She lifted a brow at him as if amused by his late night greeting. He nudged her hip until she laid down on her back and he crawled across to lay between her thighs. His free hand found the other side of her panties and he drew them down further until they sat at the very top of where the blonde curls between her thighs began. He kissed along her abdomen, lips smoothing across her skin slow and teasing, the whiskers of his chin grazing her, making her squirm beneath his mouth.

She lifted her bottom from the bed as he tugged her panties further down, her bare butt falling back to the green sheets. He slid his hands around, cupped her buttocks in his hands and kneaded them as he kissed down the top of her thigh, nipping her lightly. She lifted one knee and he took the hint, drawing her panties off one leg and running his hand up the back of her limb, tickling the back of her knee and teasing the sensitive flesh of her thigh. He stroked her hip with his thumb, staring down at the damp curls before his eyes lifted to stare into hers. She was much more awake know, her teeth biting into her lip as she stared back with glazed green eyes.

"You're home," she murmured. "Late, but here."

He rested his chin on her thigh for a moment, his fingers drawing circles on her stomach, her hips, the tops of her thighs. "I tried..."

"I know."

His brow furrowed and he found he was more annoyed with his late arrival than she was. "I wanted to..." His jaw flexed.

She reached out, fingers stroking his temple soothingly. "I know."

He sighed. "You're not going to let me brood over this, are you?"

She grinned. "Not even a little."

His lips quirked at the corners. "I can still make it up to you."

"I have no doubts you will." She lifted a brow. "You're halfway there already."

He smirked, hooking his arm beneath her thigh, holding it atop his shoulder with ease. "Are you using my mood against me, Sidekick?"

"I'm sure it'll benefit us both."

He licked his lips, eyes falling briefly as he trailed a hand down her stomach slowly, framing her heat with his fingers before he slid his thumb along her folds, watched with intense fascination as she gasped with pleasure, her body jerking at the touch. He circled her clit with his thumb, flicked it back and forth methodically before he ran his fingertips down her slit, massaging her in random circles that increased in size and pressure. He slid one, then two and finally three fingers inside of her, relishing in how she clenched around him tightly, drawing him in as deep as his digits could go. He thrust slowly; teasing her while his thumb drew unseen shapes in her heated and wet flesh, the warm juices that flowed from her coating his hand sweetly. He could feel her getting closer and closer; could tell not only by how her insides quivered around him but at her chest heaving and her cheeks flushing, her neck arching as her head fell back.

He slid his hand away, satisfied with how she whimpered at the loss but he replaced it quickly with his mouth, tasting and feasting on her with fervor. He lifted her thigh with his shoulder, angling her body with him as his tongue lapped at her folds, seeking her heady flavor and fulfilling the desire his taste buds had long missed. His free hand fell to where her forgotten panties still clung to her leg and gripped them tight in his fist as if it anchored him, reminding of her solidarity, that this wasn't just another of his feverish dreams as he lay alone in a Hotel room, missing her.

He suckled her clit, grazed it with his teeth before he slid his tongue inside of her, felt her inner walls cling to the intrusion with needy interest. Her hands clenched the sheet beneath her, knuckles white. Her stomach tightened, body jerking and lifting to meet his mouth. She cried his name, opened her eyes and directed her head down so she could see him, watch him as he eagerly tongued her closer and closer to euphoria. She tended to babble nonsense when she was close to the edge; he couldn't decipher a lot of it, except for "so good, so, _so_ good" "yes" "harder" "deeper" "fuck" and his name, over and over again. And when her hands released the sheet, reaching down and gripping his hair instead, he nuzzled her clit with his nose, rubbed his whiskered cheeks against her thighs and her folds and she came, hard, her entire being clenching and releasing as she screamed his name and lifted up off the bed in ecstasy, riding out the waves and thrusting against his mouth as his tongue slowed, his lips kissed her lightly, soothingly. His hand slowly released from around the lace garment tight around her thigh, biting into her skin and drew it down, over her knee until it fell to her ankle. She kicked them away absently.

She laid in a satisfied heap, her eyes closed and a sated smile across her lips. Her fingers let go of his hair, falling to his shoulders, kneading them before she tugged, beckoning him. He crawled up the bed, covering her warm body with his own, cradled between her thighs. His elbows weighed down on either side of her shoulders as he licked his lips and stared down at her. She wiped his chin with her hand before tipping her head and slanting her mouth across his, tangling her tongue with his and wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him in tight. Her knees dug against his hips as his hard length brushed against her still thrumming slit. "I missed you," she said in between kisses, nibbling his lower lip and rubbing the back of his neck. "So much."

His hands fell to cup the back of her shoulders, lifting her nearer to him, wanting to fall into the kiss and forget everything else but her. While she might not blame him for how often anything akin to a date or time spent together never followed the schedule, he was comforted in knowing that she was on the same level as him when it came to how much she longed having him near. That the mornings she woke up in bed alone, she missed having his arms around her, his body next to hers. That when she came home from work to an empty apartment, the only sign of him a few messages on the voice mail, she missed having the real thing there to talk to, listen to, lean against.

Their mouths met with possessive and anxious passion; it'd been too long since he'd properly kissed her and he knew she felt the same way. It was evident in how she staved off air, gasping when she could but otherwise occupying her mouth with his. Her hands fell from his neck, roamed down his back, gripping and kneading at him, stopping over his ribs where she knew he was sensitive, tracing the scar along his shoulder where a knife caught him and he refused to let her heal it. She rocked her hips against him, running her warm, open heat along his erection and delighting in how he groaned and jerked against her.

As their lips broke apart, each of them panting for air, he ducked his head, found one of her breasts now left bare from the cover of the sheet and enveloped a hard, pink nipple into the cavern of his mouth, his tongue stroking the sensitive bud back and forth, his teeth digging into the soft flesh. He slid a hand down to cup the other, thumb drawing circles in the pale white globe before flicking her tight nipple in tandem with the stroke of her hips, her heat, against him. Her back arched, her breast filling his mouth further, her moans becoming deeper, more guttural. He relished in the sound; had missed hearing her whimpering cries in these last few days without her. Had longed to have her spread beneath him, waiting and wanting and desperate for his hands and his mouth and his dick filling her deeply.

Her hands slid down his back, cupped his buttocks and forced him down against her until he couldn't take the teasing; he needed to be buried inside her. He drew back, readjusted himself, half out of instinct and half with her hand falling to wrap around his length, directing him against her, rubbing the head of his cock against her slit, around her clit and finally she held him against her entrance where he thrust forward, impaling himself as deep as he could reach, his breath catching in his chest and his eyes rolling back as he panted against her breast. "Unh... God, yes," he moaned, his forehead wrinkling as his throat tightening. "So tight, so good... Mmm..." He mumbled incoherently for a moment, trying to find a rhythm that wouldn't have their reconnection ending too early.

She wiggled her hips side to side, tightening and clenching around him. She squeezed his shoulder blade, encouraging him to move and lifting up on his elbows he slanted his mouth across hers before drawing out nearly entirely before sliding back in. Her entire body was forced up the bed an inch or three at the movement as she cried out, jerking against him. "Yes," she breathed, hands gripping his shoulders, encouraging him to do it again, to drive into her and fill her entirely.

He'd make love to her later, he'd kiss every incredible inch of her until sunrise and he'd map out each and every beauty mark that he already knew by heart, but right now, he just wanted to feel her and have her feel him back, just as deeply and fulfilling; all of the pent up longing finally finding its release. His hands pressed down against the bed, trying to find stability as he rocked into her, hard and desperate and deep. His mouth traded back and forth from her neck to her breasts to her mouth. The sweat that slickened their bodies eased the way for them to frantically meet, his chest rubbing against hers, their hips grinding together without pause. He could feel her clit rubbing against his cock as he angled himself against her, the friction making her spasm and whimper. She came twice, once while his fingers were buried alongside his length and again while he was suckling her breast, gripping her buttock with one hand and lifting her hips so he could fill her from another angle, sliding along her G-spot with each stroke.

He buried his face against her shoulder, kissing her neck, his teeth and tongue teasing her flesh. Her hands wrapped around his biceps, squeezing tight as she panted harshly, her eyes shut, her face twisted with rapt pleasure, her entire body squirming and lifting to meet him. She turned her head, kissed down his cheek until she found his chin and bit down lightly before she kissed the cleft and nibbled his lower lip. "Now," she told him, licking the corner of his mouth before kissing him more deeply. "Now," she repeated and as if to appease her, he thrust harder, sped up and within seconds, he was painting her insides with his longing for her, with his need and desire and his love for her alone.

Her nails dug deep against his flexed arms, drawing blood for only a second before a flash of light and then the red crescent marks were gone just as quickly. He'd grown used to her healing ability coming into play while they were like this; her nails scoring his back or her teeth biting down too hard on his shoulder. The pain was quick and sharp but then a warmth would fill that one spot as she healed him with her soothing ability. There was something both arousing and intimate about that.

Her head fell back, a gasp escaping her throat as she joined him, flying high above on the waves of ecstasy that flowed deliciously through their bodies. Her hips jerked and rocked against him still, her insides hugging him strongly, milking him while her knees slowly fell apart, her shaking thighs lying back against the bed. Her hands let go of his arms, slid around his shoulders and down his spine, laying against the small of his back, fingers lightly curling and unfurling against him in a way that always managed to center him, to draw him back down into his body. With a shudder of pleasure, his entire form went slack, his forehead falling to her shoulder while the rest of him lay in a heap of fulfilled pleasure.

"Some hello," she murmured against his hair before kissing the shell of his ear.

A laugh burst from him shortly before he was back to trying to catch his breath. He kissed her chest gently, turning his head so his cheek lay against her. He brought a tired hand up, his fingers drawing letters along her chest and his lips quirked as she guessed them; a game that started four years ago when he'd picked up the same habit. He'd used it to tell her things in the past, some big, some small. _I love you_. _I'm sorry. You smell good. Remind me to buy milk._ Occasionally it was nonsense but he preferred to writ things of a more intimate nature.

"M," she murmured, voice a notch lower with content.

He licked his lips, nodding. He could still feel the aftershocks of her orgasm as she gripped him at random. He didn't want to move, didn't want to disturb the peace that came along with being back home; back inside of her.

"A."

He nuzzled her chest lightly. "I took the weekend off," he murmured.

"R. Really?" Her fingers stroked up and down his spine a few inches. "And your secretary didn't have a heart attack at the news?"

"She pitched a fit..." He smiled slightly. "When I told her I was giving her a raise, she stopped complaining."

"R." She laughed, shaking her head. "You can't give everybody a raise, you know? Much as you'd like to, you _are_ running a business."

He sighed. "A business that is far too time consuming."

"Hence the reason you're a billionaire," she reminded teasingly. "Y."

"If I sold the company, I'd _still_ be a billionaire... just with a lot less problems to deal with." He licked his lips thoughtfully.

"You wouldn't trust Queen Industries in the hands of those money grubbing corporates." He could _feel_ her frown. "And you know it would be satisfying for the first while, the freedom, but you'd grow to miss it... To feel like you failed somehow..."

He sighed. She was right. As usual. He'd inherited the company from his parents and while he didn't always like it, he believed in what it could do. It employed thousands of people and it made a difference in the world at large. Yes, it was time consuming and there were moments where he truly wished he'd never bothered with it, but there were other days when it was the most satisfying thing in the world. When he realized that it had saved someone or helped people, it made up for all the late nights and business trips away from home.

"M."

"I'm just tired." His brow furrowed. "And I don't like waking up without you."

"You're getting soft, Arrow," she said, voice tender. "Waking up like _this_ has been the highlight of my month."

He laughed. "I'm not surprised."

She pinched his side. "Ego."

"I take pride in my work, there's a difference."

She snorted indelicately. "Pride in your work? Is that what we're calling it these days?"

He lifted his head to grin at her. "It is great work, you have to admit."

She rocked her hips against him. "I never complain."

"Duly noted."

"E."

_M. A. R. R. Y. M. E._

He stared at her, lifting a brow. "Have you figured me out yet, Sidekick?"

She smiled softly. "You're not the puzzle you once were... But I suppose a lifetime of learning new and old tricks, examining every little thing that makes you you, couldn't hurt... I'm very thorough, after all."

"Is that a yes?"

Her hand rose, the knuckles of her fingers stroking his cheek. "Yes, I'll marry you... On one condition."

He quirked an intrigued brow.

"You're not late for the wedding and you take our entire honeymoon off from any and all business related things." She stared at him meaningfully.

"I think that's two conditions."

She rolled her eyes. "Do we have a deal, Queen?"

"We'll kiss on it." He grinned, leaning up and slanting his mouth across hers. He buried his hand in her hair and cupped her neck to keep her close, ignoring the plea his lungs made for air to keep tasting the sweet, familiar taste that was all her. As he parted from her, he kissed down her chin and along her cheek. "You're sure you know what you're getting into?" he asked her, lifting a brow.

She flipped him over with ease, straddling his waist and hovering over him, mouth mere inches from his. "I have a pretty good idea... And I've never been one to back away from a challenge." She lifted a brow. "You sure you can handle me for a lifetime?"

He smirked. "I'm willing to spend one with you to prove it."

She brushed her nose against his. "You're asking for trouble," she teased.

"I love trouble," he murmured, staring up at her. He brushed her bangs from her eyes delicately. "I love you."

Her expression softened. "I love you too, Ollie."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her down until she was laid out on top of him comfortably, her head tucked beneath his chin. "I plan on taking you with me everywhere I possibly can, I hope you know that."

She chuckled. "I had my suspicions."

"I don't plan on waking up in another empty hotel room in future..."

"Then you won't." She kissed his chest before sighing sleepily. "Now go to sleep... And feel free to wake me up the same way tomorrow. Encouraged even."

"Message received, loud and clear." He grinned tiredly, eyes falling shut. He ran a hand up and down her back as she relaxed into his embrace, slowly falling back to sleep. He followed shortly after, a contentedness that had nothing to do with mind-blowing sex washing over him.

While he couldn't count on schedules, business, the world itself, or even his own drive and ambition to get where he needed to be, he now had the promise that in future, whatever happened, he would always have her. And Chloe Sullivan, soon to be Queen, never broke a promise. She was the one person he knew he could always trust and rely on and the knowledge that she would be his, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until death do them part, was enough to satisfy his every fear. His life may not always be perfect or easy but as long as she was in it, he was happy. What more could a person want?


	140. Secrets Unraveled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too much work makes Oliver a dull boy, so he and Chloe decided to change that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating** : NC-17  
>  **Prompt** : #014 - Frustration  
> 

They knocked over a lamp, let out a laughy breath each before their mouths were slanting together once more and they continued in their stumbling direction toward the bedroom. His hands found the bottom of her blouse, yanked it up out of her skirt and tore it in half; the clatter of buttons skipping over the floor was all to be heard besides their panting. His own shirt had followed the same path a few feet back, when she'd reached for him and his arms found her waist, drawing her up close. Her hands didn't even bother with the buttons, just grabbed the collar and tore it from the top down. He wondered briefly if when this was all over they'd blame it on working out frustration. Her and ISIS on top of her Watchtower duties, him and his CEO and League responsibilities; one minute he was considering a long night at the bar, the next he was pressing one on his speed dial.

_"What now?" came the annoyed voice that brought an odd smile to his face despite his own irritation with his day and life itself._

_"Nice to hear from you too, Sidekick," he replied._

_She sighed, and he swore he could hear her shoulders relaxing from where he stood. "Long day," she told him, voice softer now, less curt._

_"Me too."_

_"Where are you? I thought you weren't due back to grace Metropolis with that Queen charm of yours for another week and a half."_

_"Made a special trip."_ For you.

_"Really?" she sounded intrigued. "Is there a Mrs. Arrow I don't know about, Ollie?" she teased. "Because I have to tell you... I kind of like being the only woman on the team."_

_His brow quirked. "What is Dinah?"_

_"Ambiguous, of course."_

_He chuckled. "Of course." He shook his head. "Well, is the one and only woman of the League free for dinner?"_

_"No." She sighed with obvious and genuine regret. "Unfortunately, I'm not free for anything in the next... two and a half hours."_

_He sighed. "Because...?"_

_"Why, Oliver, don't you know I'm keeper of all secrets?" she teased. "Even from you, Green Leather."_

_He grinned. "And what deep, dark secrets might my faithful Watchtower be keeping? Are they of a dangerous nature or a less precarious kind?"_

_"In this instance, they happen to be incredibly boring but still important to someone secrets. But don't think that's all I'm hiding from you, Queen. I'm a fountain of knowledge. Point in fact, I may know of someone who has taken a very distinct interest in that boyish charm of yours."_

_His brows perked. "Really?"_

_"Yes and he's very interested in meeting you."_

_He snorted. "Ha-ha, Chloe."_

_She laughed. "I try."_

_He felt some of the day's strain begin to loosen, which is when his blackberry began to ring. He let out a long breath, eyes rolling upward._

_"Is the world calling again?" she asked knowingly._

_He frowned. "I should get a new number."_

_He could feel her smile. "But then how would I reach you?"_

_He smiled lightly. "Maybe I'd only give it to you."_

_"I feel special."_

_He wished he could see her right then. "You should."_

_"Well," she breathed. "In that case... I vote we meet, three hours, turn the phones off, let the world deal with itself for a little while."_

_His brow cocked. "How very reckless of you, Ms. Sullivan."_

_"My middle name."_

_His mouth quirked as he continued to ignore his blackberry another second. "All right. Three hours, meet me at the tower."_

_"I'll be there."_

_"You better be. I don't want to have to chase you down in full-out gear."_

_"I'd never say no to the leather," she answered, tone just a fraction deeper, enough to make him feel it in his gut._

_He smirked. "See you tonight, Sidekick."_

_"Can't wait."_

_As he hung up his cell phone, he picked up his blackberry. "Queen." His jaw clenched as the person on the other line filled him in. Three hours better be enough time to deal with this, because he was on the verge of not caring if Queen Industries blew up and the world followed in its wake, so long as he could spend just a little time with Chloe._

Upon hurrying to his elevator, turning his phone and blackberry off mid-ring, he dearly hoped she hadn't left yet. When the elevator doors opened, he was relieved to see her standing there, and a fraction of stress fell away just at the sight. She turned, her brow furrowed, and he could actually _see_ the harsh reality of another day weighing on her shoulders. They stood only three or four feet apart, simply staring at each other a long moment. He wanted to say something witty or charming, to take the edge off, but instead he found his jaw slowly unclenching. It was unmistakable how her mere presence could make everything seem less suffocating.

She licked her lips; his eyes fell to watch her pink tongue trail across in what seemed like slow-motion. His hands curled into fists at his sides, as if willing his body _not_ to do what it had wanted since, more precisely, the day he first laid eyes on her. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest but now it had nothing to do with how angry he was over what he was hearing, how overwhelmed and stressed he'd been answering call after call about work, work, work. He needed a vacation, a long one, preferably on a sunny beach with a certain blonde beauty taking up residence next to him. He wondered if she'd go for that and then decided he'd send her a bikini and hope for the best. Because that was it; he was taking some time off, just as soon as he found his senses as they were too intoxicated by every move she made, every breath she took, every wisp of hair that fell across her cheek.

And then her hand rose, fingers wrapped around the lapel of his jacket and he didn't think anymore, simply reacted, which was what led them here, to now, where he was backing her up through his bedroom door, kicking his shoes off as he went. Her blouse fell to the carpet and she stood before him in his dark room, her chest heaving, the green lace that cupped her breasts entirely too distracting. He decided _not_ to tear that garment, if only because he'd forever know that she owned a green lace bra, that she could be wearing it at any moment, and that if, in future, this never happened again, he could comfort himself with the idea that something so reminiscent of him could be touching her still, encasing those gorgeous breasts.

Her hand lifted once more, wrapped around the front of his pants and tugged him forward until he was standing right in front of her once more, head lowered, eyes gazing into hers. His hands cupped her face, seemingly so large across her cheeks and he inhaled a deep breath before letting it out slowly, pushing away every bad moment of the day, the week, the year. He didn't want this to be relieving frustration, not for him. He wanted this for as long as he possibly could, and he wanted to enjoy every last touch and kiss, each whimper and moan, until he had memorized her every inch, sound and expression while she arched into him, orgasmed for him, cried his name as if it were her salvation. And he was going to make sure that she felt him inside every fiber of her being, until, he hoped, she couldn't fathom not having him apart of her. Because he already felt that way, had for months now, and what drove him crazy was that he had absolutely no idea if she felt the same. But right now, her hand was sliding up his stomach, fingers tracing his abdomen, light and slow, and when she leaned forward to press a delicate kiss to his chest, he knew he was done for. That this was it; there was no turning back, no regretting it later, no making excuses.

His hands slid down her back, wrapped around the firm curves of her butt and lifted her until her legs wrapped tight around her waist and she was face to face with him. He kissed her then, just a light brush of his lips, his eyes open, watching how hers fell shut, lashes brushing her cheeks. Her brow furrowed as he stroked his tongue against hers, her nose wrinkled as he nibbled her lower lip, and her cheeks flushed as the seconds, minutes ticked by with nothing but his lips making any movements, the rest of him simply holding her close. He watched as she relaxed, as every inch of her formerly wrought with tension, melted into a heap of content. Her hands lazily ran up and down his neck and across his shoulders, fingers burying in his hair to tug on the blonde strands lightly.

He walked the two short steps to the edge of the bed and bent, leaning her back until she was sprawled across the mattress and then he gazed down at her with promise in his eyes and she grinned back, the picture of a woman fully ready to be satisfied in every manner possible. "It's only too bad you're not sporting the leather," she murmured huskily.

He laughed, leaning forward to cover her body with his own, his arms pressing down on either side of her waist. "Later," he assured.

She shivered, eyes falling to half-mass. Her hand rose, fingers lightly drumming down the side of his face. "I have a secret," she murmured.

"Is that right?" He ducked his head to press a kiss against her shoulder.

"One I think you'll like."

"Hm?" He kissed the top of her breast.

"See I've been thinking of doing... _this_ ," She rocked her hips up, pressing them tightly to his own and he moaned, nuzzling the softness of her breast before he kissed to the left and let his lips linger at the valley disrupted by the band of her bra. He used his teeth to undo the front clasp holding the green lace to her. She gasped lightly before continuing, "For awhile now."

"Really?" He used his nose to push either cup away, revealing her breasts to him. He kissed the rosy tip of one softly before he planted small, lingering kisses all around her pale mound. "How long?"

Her fingers kneaded the back of his neck as her body arched, her breasts pressing up to meet his mouth.

"A long, _long_ time."

"I thought reckless was your middle name," he teased before drawing his tongue across her nipple, slowly.

"Hmph..." she mumbled incoherently. Her fingers tightened in his hair. "And I thought you were better at reading people, Queen," she murmured, eyes opening to stare at him, a darker shade of green that screamed her lust.

He covered her breast with his hand, massaging it as he captured her ignored nipple with his lips. "Maybe I was too busy admiring you," he said, teeth grazing the tight, pink center of her breast. He quirked a brow, enjoying every delicious expression that crossed face with each flick of his tongue and suckle of his lips. She didn't hold back, arching and writhing and letting out every sound that bubbled up in her throat. Her hips thrust and rocked against him in tandem, never pausing. His hands slid lower, found the back of her skirt, undid it fluidly and then drew it down her legs, tossing it to the floor, very much forgotten as soon as he got a peek at the matching green lace panties, damp with her desire.

"You're killing me, Sidekick," he growled, trailing a finger of the front before sliding it between her slit, separating her folds through the warm, wet fabric. She jerked forward at his touch.

"Guess I should keep you around a little longer..." she managed, head falling back.

He kissed her stomach, fingers stroking back and forth, circling her clit, using the friction of the lace against her. "So what other secrets should I know?" he teased.

"I'm too incoherent to think of any..."

"I'll be sure to bring it up after."

"Long, _long_ after." She nodded, biting down on her lip. "May take me awhile to... _Oh!..._ Remember how to think." Her breathing hitched.

"If you're not thinking, you're not working, and if you're not working, you're free to be here..." He cocked a brow. "Sprawled out like this, underneath me... Where I can do incredibly naughty things to you..."

She laughed breathily. "And just how long to you plan to do these things?"

He turned his head, staring up at her with dark, adoring eyes. He slid his finger beneath the lace of her panties and smirked. "For as long as you'll let me." He delved a digit deep inside of her, relishing in every second that she jerked and writhed before him, keening for more.

"I h-have a f-feeling," she gasped, lifting her head to look at him. "We'll be spending a lot more time together."

He nodded. "Great idea, Sidekick. How does a white sandy beach sound to you?"

It took her a long moment to reply. "F-Fan- _tas_ -tic!"

He wasn't sure if she meant to beach or his lips pressing kisses against her folds. Right then, he didn't much care. By the end of the night, he was certain of two things. One was that work would be the last thing on his mind for the next while. And two was that she was _his_ , finally, and he wasn't going to let anything stand in the way of him keeping her. If work did him any good that day, it was finally pushing him over the edge, only to be caught by the one person he wished he could've been spending his time with all along. Fate works in mysterious ways... He hoped it brought them to Tahiti tomorrow afternoon, probably late, they'd be too exhausted to do any packing right away. After all, they had a long night ahead of them; he still had to don the leather for her eyes only. That reminded him... he wondered how her tailored Watchtower suit was coming along. He'd have to put a rush on it.


	141. Forbidden's Sexy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe has her reservations and Oliver is sure to ease her mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating** : NC17  
>  **Prompt** : #017 - Forbidden  
> 

He slid the zipper of her dress down her back, his forefinger trailing behind it, tracing her spine as she shivered. Her head lolled forward, her teeth no doubt biting her lip like she so often did to stop herself from whimpering. He gathered her hair in his hand and moved it off her neck, pressing his lips at the base and down her shoulder.

"We shouldn't do this," she murmured, despite leaning into his mouth.

He slid the straps off either of her shoulders and she didn't stop it as the dress slid off of her, pooling at her feet.

"It's not right, Ollie."

He ran his hands up and down her arms, warming her skin. "You've been separated for over a year," he reminded, lightly nipping the ball of her shoulder before he nuzzled her neck and kissed around the shell of her ear.

She shivered, head falling back against him. "I'm still _married_."

"Chloe," he sighed against her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You've admitted yourself the marriage is over. Just as soon as the divorce papers come in, it'll be legally done. And he's seeing somebody, isn't he?"

"Yes, but... It just feels like I'm doing something wrong." She looked up at him. "Like this is forbidden."

He slid his hands up her stomach and cupped either of her breasts, kneading them as she arched into his large palms, his thumbs rubbing her rosy nipples. "Forbidden's sexy." He smirked. "You know married women are usually off limits to me. But I gotta say, Sidekick..." He slid one hand downward, walking his forefinger and middle finger over her ribs and down to her navel before sneaking them beneath her panties and cupping her heat. "You're the exception..."

She gasped, rocking her hips against his fingers as they probed her folds delicately.

He kissed her jaw and along her cheek. "Do you love him?" He already knew the answer.

Her brow furrowed. "No. I haven't in... so long. I- _Oh!_ " Her knees shook as he flicked her clit lightly.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, nibbling her lip. "Do you love me?"

She nodded, turning her head. "I do. I-You know I do, Oliver."

"Then let me love you. It's not wrong and it's not something you should feel bad about." He stared at her searchingly. "I want you and I want you to want me... But I don't want you to feel like you're making a mistake."

She sighed. "You could never be a mistake." She covered his hand across her breast. "And I want you."

He smiled. "Wouldn't have anything to do with where my fingers are right now, would it?"

She laughed before petering out on a moan as he stroked circles along her slit. "It's h-helping..." she managed, leaning into him.

Sliding his hand out from her panties, smirking at her whimper of disappointment, he gathered her up into his arms and walked toward his bedroom. "I've always liked the idea of tasting forbidden fruit," he murmured against her hear.

She wiggled in anticipation.


	142. Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's in for a pleasurable surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating** : NC17  
> 

She laid sprawled and open, framed by the silky forest green sheets beneath her. She stared up at him, lips curled with anticipation, eyes dark and wanting. He ran a gloved hand over her stomach; the rough green leather scraped against her soft skin, making his shiver. He removed the sunglasses to see her better, but he left the outfit and the voice distorter on. Her nipples pebbled the second he knelt next to her on the bed, her breasts tightening just from seeing him all dressed up in his gear. They heaved with each deep breath she drew in, her entire body reacting to the simple touch of his hand along her abdomen. He traced her ribs with his bare thumb, felt her swallow tightly, her stomach jumping as he lightly tickled her. She laughed breathily, watching as he cupped either of her breasts, the cool leather of his gloves feeling sharply different against her pale mounds. His hands slid away, however, as she began to wiggle, wanting his thumbs stroking her nipples, his lips kissing her.

Instead, he drew out an arrow, long and colored in various shades of green. He started at the top of her head, drawing the sharp point of the arrow along the structure of her face; tracing her eyebrows, the curves of her cheeks, the slant of her nose and the bow of her lips. He ran it slowly, temptingly down her throat and along her shoulder, stroking the inside of her bicep, along the sensitive, thin flesh as her arm lay curved out from her. He bent to kiss the inside of her elbow, trailing his arrow along her forearm before flicking his tongue across her pulse and kissing the palm of her hand, smiling as her fingers curled to touch his cheek. Using the feathered end, he ran the soft but firm fletching along her curvy sides, tickling her ribs once more and falling to her hip bone before he twirled the arrow in his fingers letting the feather brush against her skin enticingly, across her abdomen to her other hip bone and up her opposite side, following a backwards path to repeat along her body and arm. He slowly drew the feathers along her upper chest, drawing figure eights in her pale skin and watching as her muscles tightened and jumped at the sensation, how she bit her lip with each flick of the fletching.

As he reached her breasts, he leaned forward to lick one nipple, blowing cool air across it before he circled it with the nock of his arrow, creating shapes of all sizes. She moaned from the back of her throat, her body arching, but his hand fell to her stomach, pressed her back down, while the other wielded his favorite toy, torturing delightfully. He followed the same technique on her other breast but suckled her nipple, gently nibbling on it to stimulate her further. Her hands lifted into her hair, gripped tight as she writhed side to side at the touch of his lips, the skimming of the arrow. Turning the arrow horizontal, he rolled it down her stomach, the shaft and crest wandering the slope of her stomach and coming to a stop at her hips.

Her legs were parted, her scent filling the air, inhaled in each breath he took as he laid next to her, head now propped on his upturned hand. He could see her thighs quivering. He left the arrow atop her and snaked his hand down to cup the underside of her far thigh, further opening her to him. Starting from the top, he languidly let the tips of his leather covered fingers run down her open folds, barely touching them, but still enough to have her whimpering, tightening for him. Ducking his head between her thighs, he trailed his tongue along her slit, tasting the warm, sweet flavor of her as she jerked for him. "Ollie," she breathed.

"Tell me what you feel," he said, his voice darker, huskier with the distorter.

She shivered. "Frustrated," she murmured, laughing lightly.

He nuzzled her clit admonishingly and she keened for more. "I-I..." She shook her head. "Like everything's wired and on fire and waiting for that one last... _boom_."

His lips twitched. "And your thighs?" He kissed the shaking and tense limb gently.

"Ready to break... They feel so tight..." She licked her lips. "Please... I just... I need you inside me." She lifted her head, staring at him with deep, beautiful green eyes, crying out for him and his hands, his length buried hard inside of her. "Ollie..."

Some part of him loved that even dressed in full Arrow gear, she saw the man. If it were anyone else, he'd feel like they were reminding him that the suit, the gear, it was all just hiding his humanity; his ability to falter. But she saw the real him, in or out of the suit, she just wanted Oliver; whatever came with him was fine by her.

Green Arrow and Oliver were one and the same, rolled up to make Ollie, the man who saved the world, commanded a billion dollar business, and loved the blonde beauty laid out before him. Oliver wanted to take her, ravish her until morning when they were too exhausted to do anything more but sleep. Arrow wanted to explore the rest of her with his namesake, treat her clit and folds to the texture of the feathery end. And Ollie wanted both, so he did just that. He drew the arrow away from her stomach, rolled it vertical and began to pleasure her with the fletching, brushing it along each and every point that had her jerking and crying out, circling her clit and running the cold length of the shaft along her to soothe her away from her climax.

She was arched off the bed, damp with sweat, pleading, begging, _needing_ him. And as he tossed the arrow away, dripping with her wet heat, he climbed overtop her, hovering on all fours. She wasted no time, lifting her head to capture his lips in hers passionate and desperate while her fingers yanked the zipper of his vest down and parted it quickly to run her hands over his chest, nails scraping against him. She slid her hands beneath the tight leather confines of his pants, cupped him strongly and rubbed vigorously before she was pushing the fabric away, freeing his hard length for her hands to thoroughly encompass. She lifted her knees then, cradled him between her thighs and rubbed the wet and sensitive end of his cock along herself. He buried a hand in her hair, held on tight as their mouths slanted together breathlessly.

He could feel her breasts against his chest, her nipples rubbing against him as her chest heaved. Her hand slid beneath the back of his vest and clawed down his back slowly; drawing him in close to her until the head of dick was pressed against her entrance. And he couldn't take anymore, couldn't hold out and enjoy how much she needed him. Instead he gave into his own desires, fulfilling hers in the process and sunk deep inside of her tight passage, her hips tilting to accommodate him.

All of her breath left her and her eyes fluttered close, the build up had her first orgasm hitting her immediately and he could feel her constricting tight around him, nearly ending it for him far too early, but he slid in and out of her just a few inches, brushing her clit, keeping her riding the wave as long as she could before she was gripping his shoulders and wanting to get back into it, to enjoy another and another. And the plans for exploring and enjoying her until the early hours of the morning were very much a likelihood.

Burying his face in her shoulder, he panted heavily, the noise muffled by the distorter as he gripped her hip in his hand and met her jerking hips with the knowledge of a man who knew his wife inside and out. Three and a half years of his faithful Watchtower in his bed and by his side had led to a private wedding on the rooftop they first kissed on. And over five years later, he was just as in love with her as he was that day; physically, emotionally, and irrevocably.

Biting the end of his glove, he tore it off with his teeth before he took one of her hands in his and held on tight, still thrusting inside of her with vigor. Her fingers twined with his and the cool touch of her wedding band still made him grin. He could feel her shaking once more and he sped up, furthered himself until he was buried to the hilt before they were both crying out, both riding ecstasy to its highest point. And as he came down, his entire body shaking from top to bottom, all he could do was kiss her shoulder, whispering her name over and over, "Chloe, Chloe, Chloe..." while she stroked his back and cradled him tight against her. He decided then and there that his faithful arrows were coming to their bed more often. Maybe tomorrow, after they slept off what was sure to be a very invigorating night, he'd put in an order for a special type of arrow, one he designed himself, one that was directly made to stimulate his lovely wife.

He felt her lips against his ear as she murmured, " _That..._ was one of your best ideas yet."

He laughed deeply, no longer distorted as she'd flicked it off to hear his natural voice. "I take all kinds of thank you's, Sidekick..."

"You'll be getting them," she promised huskily.

It was his turn to shiver with anticipation.


	143. King and Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What once he’d tried so hard to ignore was so easy to embrace now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **prompt** : #026 – Sensuality

She hasn’t smiled like this in too long and he can’t help but feel proud that he’s the reason. He’s the only one who can get her like this, draw her away from her coveted wall of Intel and make her drop those heavy defenses. He can tell from the way her eyes fall to half-mass that she isn’t thinking about work or the outside world or anything other than his hands stroking her skin and the heat of his mouth trailing along her neck. The laugh that escapes her is soft, filled with sweet tenderness, and her hands grip his shoulders as if some part of her can’t help but worry this moment will end. But he won’t go anywhere; he refused to leave what he had finally found.

It took a long time for him to come to this conclusion. He convinced himself, over and over, time and again, that what he  _thought_ he was feeling was just an embellishment of his natural feelings. When she was still with Jimmy, he blamed his infatuation on his unending pride in her. He looked at her and saw a woman who couldn’t be brought down, who  _wouldn’t_ lay down and take it. In many ways, she was like Lois, and in other ways, she was so completely different. Where Lois could be hard, indifferent, even cold when she was trying so desperately to hide her true feelings, Chloe was the opposite. Heart on her sleeve, fall-for-the-hero, and love with every inch of her self, Chloe Sullivan. So he fell for her brain and her bravery first and he watched enviously as Jimmy Olson got the girl. Until that fateful day when it all went up in smoke. Was it callous of him to think maybe he had a chance when her ex-husband lay only six feet under, barely forgotten? Probably.

So he stuck those feelings deep down inside him and instead he focused on his guilt; on his relentless pursuit to get away from all that he’d caused. He’d been the downfall of two men and he’d crushed Chloe’s heart in the process. So he disbanded the League and he ran away, drank himself deeper and farther from all that ate at him. Until she came for him, took him out of his self-made pit of despair and told him to get back to what he did best. She went about it in a rather odd manner, but the message stuck. He was a fighter. And all this time he’d been fighting the wrong thing, the wrong  _person_. While he’d been pushing her and what he felt for her away, she’d been doing what she always did. Sticking by him. And so he gave up, gave  _in_ , and he let himself care for the only person who  _truly_  understood him.

She cupped his face now, stared up with those endless green eyes, and smiled so genuinely he felt it deep inside his heart. A pang, a knowing, a glimpse of just how deeply she could affect him. She was so beautiful, her previously coiffed hair now messy and her make-up long gone. Her lips were swollen from his own and his teeth nibbling their away around. Day gave into night outside his penthouse apartment and the falling sun lit her features ethereally, letting her glow before him like the angel she was, his true savior. And when he got so lucky, he couldn’t remember. Weeks, months, after all had fallen apart and been repaired, she’d stuck by him and she’d focused their team on bigger problems. Without him knowing it, as he let himself open to her, he fell face forward, unconsciously awaiting his doom. But she caught him, like she always did. And for reasons still unknown to him, she actually loved him back.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him down against her. The wet warmth of her was welcoming against his bare stomach, which tightened and flip-flopped as he was struck once more by how so long ago he hadn’t allowed himself to imagine being with her this way. Having her here in his bed, in his arms, looking up at him like he could do no wrong, never make her turn her back on him for anything. He took her hand, kissed her palm and nibbled the ends of her long fingers; the same that had explored every inch of him, had stroked his hair each night when he returned from parole and was too buzzed to sleep just yet. Her free hand roamed down his back, short blunt nails scoring along his spine just the way she knew would make him arch, his hips jut forward, his length slide heavily along her heat. She gasped, chewing her lip sensually as her eyes fluttered, fell shut just a fraction of a moment before she was staring at him again.

She turned her hand in his, threaded their fingers, and with the agility of his perfect warrior queen she rolled them over. She sat atop him with a playful half-smirk, the weight of the world no longer heavy on her shoulders. She’d shucked it away, to be picked back up later. Now was their time, alone, without consequence or worry. Her hands splayed at his shoulders, slowly making their way lower, teasing him in their journey. He gripped her knees at his sides so he wouldn’t reach for her and end his sweet torture. She loved to explore, her curiosity never-ending, and though she’d done this time and again, she still loved to feel every inch of him, just as he did her. She bent forward to bury her face in his neck, lips heatedly meeting his skin while she rocked ever-so-slowly against him. He would have whimpered if he’d been a lesser man, but instead he caught his breath, angled his hips up to meet her soft heat. Her hands fell to his waist, held him down as she gave him a short shake of her head.

Wait. Not yet.

Painful as it was, he obeyed.

She kissed his shoulders, the indents of hard-won muscle along his biceps, stroked her tongue along the sensitive inner-skin of his elbow, chuckling when he bucked against her. And then his hands, his fingers, which she took great care in exploring, kissing each callous made from hours with his bow and arrows. And finally, when sweat beaded his brow, she leaned forward, caught his lips, and with the precision of a woman who knew him entirely too well, she gripped him tight and drew him inside her. He was helpless then, powerless to keep himself at bay. His arms wrapped around her, fingers gripping her back and holding her tight while his hips pistoned up to meet her tight heat. Her tongue tangled with his, matching each thrust of his length deep inside her. She rocked back and forth, lifting her hips just right, meeting his every movement. Her fingers feathered through his hair, stroked it back from his sweat-dampened face.

He could already feel her tightening, fluttering all around him.  _Wait_.  _Not yet_. He sat up with a speed Bart couldn’t compare to and while kneeling in their bed, he let her fall back, sprawl out, but held tight to her legs around him. Arched up, she gripped the sheets beneath her, and spread herself, letting him take the lead. One arm around her waist holding her steady, he sunk deep inside her while he kissed her stomach, tongue delving into her navel. He kept his pace just slow enough to make her hover on the edge while he kissed up her body, nuzzling the undersides of her breasts. Pale pink nipples, tight and begging for his mouth, he cupped one breast in his hand while he circled the other with his tongue. She cried out, clenching around him and nearly tearing the sheets in her pleasure.

He teased her just as she did him, waiting until she was almost pleading with him before he lifted her back up. Her arms fell around his neck while her dazed, molten eyes met his. Heavy, wanting lips, slanted together before he fell back and rolled them over.

“Please,” she breathed, staring up at him as if he held her poised for perfection, the only one to give and take and receive. “Ollie.”

That was it, that was all he needed. His name from her mouth, as if that was made it all the more real instead of some sort of fantasy cooked up in his mind. So he kissed her and he gave them both what they wanted. No holding back, no slowing down, he filled her to the brim and pushed her over the edge, only to catch her at the bottom. Panting, boneless, heavy, they lay together in a sweaty, delirious heap. She was kissing the shell of his ear, the length of his neck, just as she always did. And he was holding on to her, tighter than needed, while he tried to catch his breath.

“I think we broke our record,” she murmured, voice hoarse and thick.

He smirked. “Give me ten minutes and we’ll have broken a  _world_ record.”

She laughed, shaking her head.

He slid off of her and drew her up against him, throwing his arm above his head while he stared up at the quickly darkening ceiling.

“How many times was that?” he wondered, brow lifting all-too cockily.

“Enough that you’ll need more than a ten-minute rest, Arrow,” she replied cheekily.

He grinned softly, letting his heavy eyes fall closed. Maybe she was right. A  _twenty_  minute nap wouldn’t do any harm. They’d been going at it since early morning, when he’d forcefully pulled her and her computer chair away from their work and talked her into a few minutes alone… which obviously turned into an entire day together. In a few hours he’d have to get up, get ready and go on patrol, so he was going to make the most of what time he had left. His body wasn’t quite agreeing; he was exhausted, to say the least. Just as he was about to give in to his power-nap, he caught her arm moving out of the corner of his eye.

There, on the nightstand, she was righting the queen Chess piece he’d given her what seemed like a lifetime ago. It must’ve fallen over during the ruckus. He couldn’t help but watch as she tenderly stroked the side of the aged ivory piece, as if it were a symbol for so much more. Back then, it’d been a truce, a declaration of understanding. But now… it was like the figurine that symbolized  _them_  and how far they’d come, who they were now. When she rolled back into the warmth and comfort of his arms, his eyes were drawn to the similar piece next to his side of the bed that she’d given him nearly a year ago. The king to match the queen, united. If he had it his way, they’d be together, like this, standing tall in every which way, for a very long, very eventful lifetime.

In twenty minutes, he’d remind her of the fact.


	144. The Seductress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What she loved best about Halloween was that it was a night where she could let all inhibitions go…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating** : Mature  
>  **Prompt** : #028 - Night  
> 

What she loved best about Halloween was that it was a night where she could let all inhibitions go. It was made up of being someone you weren’t, or deep down _were_ , and simply just unable to show it to the world before. So on that fateful Samhain, she dressed specifically with one goal in mind. Wearing a gown of black silk that dipped low in the front, clung to her curves and whispered around her legs, she stood in bright red pumps that accentuated the length of her long legs, and wrapped her hair in red gauze, letting the lacey ties fall down her bare back. Best of all, a black and red intricate lace mask covered a portion of her face, just enough to hide her identity. Simply put, she was dressed as a Seductress. Not a vampire or a siren or a naughty nurse, no. She was going out to tonight with one thought in mind, to seduce _him_.

Each Halloween Oliver Queen threw the biggest party anybody could ask for. In a Metropolis nightclub that many were often turned away from, he opened the doors wide and invited everybody who could fit inside. With four professionally staffed bars, two VIP rooms, a giant dance floor, a huge outdoor patio, lighting and laser effects to put Michael Bay to shame, three DJ’s, and a costume contest to top it all off, he was putting his all into this year’s bash. And she planned to show her appreciation in a most interesting way.

She didn’t bother with the line, the exhilaration of being the person who gets in without waiting actually made her chest clench with excitement. The bouncer took one look at her and moved out of the way, she couldn’t help a satisfied grin. The music was so loud she could hardly hear herself _think_ , but it added to the feel of everything. Already her body thrummed with the inevitable. People were everywhere, dressed to the nines in everything she could think of. Ghouls and goblins, witches and wizards, mermaids and fairies, and then the more modern joke-outfits, like a blue iPod standing in the corner. She took it all in and had to give him props for such a delivery; the people were certainly dazzled.

Searching the crowds, she wanted to spot him. To catch his eye, not approach him. He would come to her. She ignored those around her, the leering stares, the women’s sneers. She knew how she looked; it wasn’t trashy but just this side of sensually seductive.

The song turned and her lips twitched as Late Night Alumni’s Rainy Days filled her ears. Perfect. She stepped center to the crowd, closed her eyes and let herself be washed away by the gothic beat. Gyrating couples moved over just enough for her to move comfortably. Not that she cared; this wasn’t for them but her. Her and him. Hands sliding from her hips, she moved them up her body with slow precision, spreading her fingers across the soft fabric that swathed her body. Lifting her arms into the air, she swayed to and fro, head falling back as she fell victim to the music. The warmth of the lights above touched her bare skin and the farther she stretched her hands she could almost pretend it wasn’t night, but day, and the sun was reaching toward her, cascading all around her shoulders. Her hips rocked tenderly to the beat, the slit of her dress sliding up her thigh just enough to entice.

The Seductress was anything but ignored.

Eyes watched, bodies reacted, and mouths lay agape at the sensuality dripping from her sweet form.

Across the room, he leaned against the bar, a glass of red wine going ignored between his fingers. He watched with entranced brown eyes, seeing every twist and roll of her hips as if he could feel her against him. Temptation was too much. He dropped his glass to the bar and crossed the room with long determined strides. The other men wanting a piece stepped back as they caught sight of him. He smirked. Was there no competition then? If they weren’t willing to try, they weren’t worthy of her.

When he stepped up behind her, she seemed to feel his presence. She neither startled nor pushed him away; she took one look at him, smirked as if she _knew_ it would be him, and then slid into his arms. Back pressed to his front, she fit like a glove. The red lace she wore around her hair shielded the color and the flashing lights all around only helped. Her arms lifted back, hands wrapping behind his neck, fingers ever-so-lightly feathering into his hair before she dragged her nails down his skin. His hands weren’t sure where to rest, instead enjoying the journey of exploring her curves and delighting in the soft fabric of her dress. It dipped so low it could’ve been called indecent but for the way she wore it. The curves of her breasts were visible, just enough for him to gage that they’d fit into his hands perfectly. And he wanted to hold them, he wanted to hold _her_.

She tipped her head back, rested it against his shoulder and stared up at him with mesmerizing green eyes that said it all. But for the mask, she was utterly beautiful; engrossing in her sensuality. Her body moved as if one with the music, gyrating and rocking gently as if a breeze moved her along, drawing her inhibitions and fears away to leave this lovely creature behind. He could feel the heat of her body seeping through his clothes and searing his skin, with it came the pounding of his heart, desire pooling thickly in his stomach.

His hands slid up her sides, brushed the soft weight of her breasts, and his fingers grazed the length of her neck. He slid one silk strap from her shoulder, let it flutter just slightly down her arm and bent his head to press his lips to her revealed flesh. She buried her hand in his hair, rolled her hips back against him enthusiastically. He tasted her pale skin, stroked it with his tongue and bit lightly, leaving his mark there as if already he possessed her. Smoothing his chin along her shoulder, he kissed up her neck and sucked her earlobe, smirking as she tugged on his hair, her eyes falling closed. But _she_ was the seductress here and quickly she turned the tables.

Turning in his arms, she pressed her hands to his chest but didn’t push him away, no, instead she slid up close, forcing him instead to watch and not touch. With splayed fingers, she roamed his chest, all the while letting her body move gently to the song, staring up at him with those strong, deep eyes of hers. She tugged his shirt free without his knowledge, so engrossed was he. And as her cool hands slid up along his bare torso, he hissed. She dragged her nails down his sides, her lips quirking as he shivered. Circling him, she tempted him with the easy movement of her body, so seductive, watching him all along, drawing him deeper. It took all of his strength not to reach out and grab her, have what he so wanted.

As if reading his mind, her lips quirked and she stepped back into his space. A tug on his belt drew him up against her once more and it was only as her leg slid up his side that he was granted permission to touch her once more. One hand cupping her thigh, the other pressing against the small of her back, he did what he’d longed to.

He kissed her.

She forced herself to inhale, knowing that dying from a lack of air in this moment would only ruin it. Her plan had worked better than she thought. And as he stared at her, arousal so thick in the air, she almost wanted to forget about decency and tear her dress off then and there. Instead, she tipped her head, granted her approval and parted her lips as his mouth met hers. His tongue was hot, liquid passion, meeting hers and dancing to a beat much less languid than the one her body continued to rock to. The pressure of his hand at the base of her back had her arching and she couldn’t help a small gasp as their hips pressed so intimately that she could feel his impressive erection fully through her dress. What it would be like to spend the rest of the night right here, in his arms, drowning in his kiss.

But all was not to be.

She was more Temptress than Seductress, she supposed. As giving her entire night to him would mean eventually revealing herself. And given their history, that wasn’t possible.

So instead, she did what she had to. She broke apart from him, albeit slowly. She nibbled his lips and prayed she’d never forget the taste of him. Hands cupping his face, thumbs stroking his strong jaw, she bid farewell to a dream she knew she wasn’t meant to have. Friends, partners, but not lovers. With one last parting kiss, she stepped away from him, turned, and left behind the only man she knew better than herself, and vice versa.

Barely a half hour later she was standing amidst the chaos of what would be their next job, surveying the surroundings of what she would always be. Sidekick, computer guru, Watchtower. Not a woman, not the seductress she’d meant to be tonight. As the clock rung midnight, Halloween ended, and like Cinderella became the unwanted sister, she returned to her duty. Her heels clicked along the floor and while she knew she should change, she figured Oliver would be busy for most of the night anyway. Besides, if nothing else, her costume made her feel sexy. Like the woman inside her, the one who wanted so desperately to be let out.

She hardly heard the elevator as it arrived, too engrossed with taking the pins out of her hair and letting the red lace netting drop to her desk, looking so out of ordinary compared to the many file folders and stacks of Intel.

It was only as his warm hand touched the nape of her neck that she knew he knew. Long fingers curling around, he held her in place as he moved to stand in front of her. She wasn’t sure how to gage his reaction while he stared down at her with such intensity. This was not the man she had named friend so long ago, nor was it the hero she played sidekick to so many nights. This was the same man who had held her on the dance floor, that looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

He cupped her cheek, fingers threading in her unbound hair, and still he said nothing.

“Ollie…” she murmured, not even sure what to say.

Sorry I dressed up like someone else, seduced you, and then left you hanging… Somehow, it didn’t quite do it.

He shook his head, his jaw flexing. “You think I didn’t know those eyes?” He lifted an arrogant brow.

Her throat tightened, her stomach fluttered; how was she supposed to respond to that?

Stepping nearer, he tipped her head back and body to body, he spoke so close to her mouth she could feel his lips caressing hers with each word. “There are two reasons why I didn’t take you right there like we both wanted me to…” He swallowed tightly, trying to regain his computer. “One, I’m not willing to share you with anyone… The last thing I want is anybody going home with the image of _all of you_ in their heads…” He licked his lips, a flicker of jealousy in his eyes, as if he already knew she was unforgettable after her stunt.

“And two?” she asked, her voice a breathy whisper.

“Two…” She shivered as his free hand slid down her spine and pulled her up against him so tight she felt his hard length pressed against her once more. “When I’m inside you, I want to see your face…” His fingers traced the outside of her lace mask before pushing it up and out of the way. “Never some mask.”

Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest she swore he must be able to hear it. But he paid no attention; instead he took her lips once more. There was no tentative, uncertain moment, simply passionate possession. And the woman, his Watchtower, his Sidekick, were one in the same. He cupped her bottom and lifted her high until her legs wrapped tight around his waist. His mouth, his eyes, his clutching hands, they were all a promise that she would feel like more of a woman with him than ever before. Finally.

He was already stripping her seductive black gown from her, wanting her as naked as he could get her. It wasn’t the seductress he wanted, not the woman in the mask, but who he knew behind it.

Chloe Sullivan.

Black silk pooled around her waist, she could barely keep her eyes open as he took her breast into his mouth, his tongue swirling and flicking just right. He had crossed the penthouse and brought them to his bedroom so quickly, she thought she might’ve blacked out a moment. Laying her down on the bed, he pulled her dress the rest of the way off and tossed it to the floor. He lifted a brow at her obvious neglect in wearing underwear but didn’t seem to mind as he quickly undressed and slid between her thighs. Hands wrapped around her knees, he dragged her across the bed until she was wrapped around him once more. While pressing kisses all along her neck and down her body, he told her of how he’d waited for some kind of sign, anything that would let him know she felt half as much as he did. And it was with those words that she realized he’d always seen her, always known the woman behind the computer.

After all, she couldn’t expect anybody to know her like he did, not even herself.

And that night, he made sure she knew it. There would never be another doubt in her mind of her own sensuality, her own womanly seduction. She had achieved her ultimate goal with an added benefit. While she seduced him, he made sure she _kept_ him. Mask not needed.


	145. She Smiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How and when it all happened…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating** : NC17  
>  **Prompt** : #032 - Water  
> 

The first time he initiated anything, she’d just come out of the shower. Water sluiced down her neck, dripping from her hair. There was something so domestic about having a woman in his apartment, combing the knots from her hair, and lounging in his favorite chair with her legs curled under her. After arriving back from a trip to Maine, he’d found her in his apartment, freshening up. She’d run communications from his apartment rather than her own due to technical difficulties, and for the first time he actually welcomed them.

She looked beautiful; her cheeks were suffused pink with a flush from the heat of the shower, her hair was slicked back and falling in wet tendrils against her cheeks. He could smell his soap on her, the faint aroma of his shampoo and body wash. He swallowed tightly; the image of her in his shower, dripping wet, rubbing soap all over her skin… Suddenly, his pants were too tight and there was a noticeable clenching in his lower stomach. He’d been careful to always look at her as a friend and partner but there were moments when just how _woman_ she really was knocked him off his feet.

He’d later tell himself he was just tired, he hadn’t been thinking straight, but a moment later he had crossed the floor, sat on the arm of the chair and took the comb from her. Gently, he brushed her hair, and found himself distracted by the various colors he found. From afar she’d just looked blonde, but strands of brown ranging from the color of chocolate to almond were mixed in with her sunny yellow hair that shined darker now. He could already see it curling at her neck and around her ears. She didn’t stop him, even when her hair was free of tangles. Instead, she closed her eyes, leaned against his leg and tipped her head back. From where he sat, he could see the spatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose, could just about count every one of her lashes.

Droplets of cold water slid from her temple, followed the lines and angles of her face, drawing his eyes to do the same. He could see the tightness of her neck, the faint outline of goosebumps as her skin chilled. The robe she was wearing sloped at her breasts; his eyes were helpless as they followed a bead of water down her throat, along her collarbone, slowing before teetering over the edge and making a sudden drop down below the fabric. She looked so soft, a very different image than the gung-ho, always put-together Watchtower he often witnessed. He swore, staring at her, he could almost make out the pulse of her heart, beating between her lush breasts.

Finally, after what seemed like much longer than acceptable, his hand stilled. Her eyes opened slowly, affection and relaxation clear in her bright green gaze. He didn’t have any specific thought in his head; in fact he wasn’t sure he was thinking at all. But when he leaned forward and her head fell further back, his heart jumped a little in his chest. Her lips were soft, warm, and she tasted like his mouthwash. He smiled at that. He cupped the underside of her jaw, his thumb stroking tenderly. His jeans became damp with the weight of her hair against them and he felt a shiver run down his spine. With each slant of his lips, she exhaled and he inhaled, the intimacy so beyond anything he could remember sharing. Their kiss was short, but when her tongue reached out to stroke the underside of his upper lip, he felt an overwhelming desire to never stop. When he drew away, her eyes were closed. She licked her lips and smiled.

He wanted more. So did she. But they left it at that, the line still very much there between them.

She stayed in his guest room, too tired to make her way back to her apartment, and he spent the entire night awake, thinking of her lips and how he’d give up just about anything to kiss them again.

The second time he started something between them, she’d nearly drowned during a mission gone horribly wrong. AC had found a lab splicing human genes with aquatic animals and he’d run in, hell bent on saving them all. Chloe had been knocked into the tank after a spat with a guard while she tried to get to the main computer. He’d left her to drown when her leg got caught on the wires and tubes layering the bottom. Stuck beneath the water she kicked and fought to get free but only succeeded in using the last of her air. When Oliver found her, she was covering her mouth with both hands as if she thought somehow she could live off what little air she had left.

Something snapped in him when he saw her there, so helpless. He reacted purely on instinct, racing across the room, jumping inside the tank and cutting apart what held her down. An arm around her waist, he swam her to the top, lifted her out and held her as she hacked up saltwater. Back to her snarky-self quicker than a flash, she helped finish the mission and they got out as swiftly as they could. Sitting on his plane for the ride home, she wore one of his green silk robes with an OQ insignia on the breast pocket. Curled up in the back, looking out the window, she was still soaked through and smelled like fish.

When he sat down next to her, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he drew her into his arms, cuddled her up against his chest and stroked her back. She held on tight, shaking as if she were still cold. With the team fast asleep up front, he did something anyone else might’ve slapped him for. Drawing her into his lap, her knees on either side of his legs, he reached for the tie of the robe, staring at her all the while. She didn’t say a word, simply staring back at him. Parting the silk from her, he bore witness to soft creamy flesh that would forever haunt his fantasies. Soft curves, a handful each of beautiful breasts that pebbled as the air hit them, she was stunning. Swallowing back his desire, he undid his own shirt, half-smiling as she parted the fabric for him. Holding her hips a little tighter than he meant to, he drew her against him until they sat flesh to flesh, completely bare. She shivered once, relaxed, and took his warmth into herself. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking her bare back until she fell asleep in his lap, her head tucked in his neck.

With her slow, warm breath skittering against his neck, he sat back and felt his entire body relax. Usually, after a mission he was wound up and wired, but with her there, his only responsibility or thought, every muscle unfurled. Stroking her hair absently, he stared out the window of the jet, watching as the sun rose, painting the sky and her in ethereal rays of beauty. Every once in awhile, she’d wiggle against him, her hands searching for purchase before wrapping around his arm or his side and then she’s relax against him once more. She only woke up once, startled, but then she inhaled, drew in his scent, and fell right back asleep, knowing she was safe.

He could feel every inch of her frame against him, from the comforting weight and warmth of her thighs, the short blonde hairs between them pressed to his stomach, up to her soft breasts, flattened against his chest. Whenever she moved, her nipples lightly grazed him and ever a man of self-restraint, he bit his lip painfully to keep from reacting instinctively. Her hair, wet when she fell asleep, glimmered gold as the sun painted it brightly. His shoulder was still damp from where her head while the rest of him radiated with heat. He hated that eventually he’d have to let her go.

He woke her before they landed, tied her robe back up as slowly as humanly possible, and once more they parted ways as if nothing were different.

The third time between them she appeared in his apartment, soaked through from the rain pouring relentlessly outside. He’d been away almost a month and while they spoke on the phone and traded work details, he’d missed seeing her in person. Usually, after all the time he’d spent traveling the world, he got used to the time in between, of not seeing people for long periods of time. But when he saw her again, it felt like something that had been missing was found. The weight that laid heavy on his shoulders all too often, disappeared. He could breathe and relax and for the firs time it what felt like ages, he could _breathe_.

Her clothes hung heavy on her small frame, dripping a puddle around her feet. Her expression said it all; the worry but determination evident in her eyes. He knew he should’ve said something, enacted their usual sarcastic banter, anything to avoid the inevitable. But before he could think of anything remotely witty he was standing in front of her, cupping her wet cheeks in his hands.

“God, I missed you,” was all he managed before common sense fled entirely. He kissed her, deeply, passionately, with no thought of stopping now.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, tight, telling him she wasn’t going to let him go this time.

He pushed her jacket off her shoulders, heard it plop on the floor in a heap. Her blouse was so wet it clung to her body so deliciously enticing. Her breasts were outlined, nipples standing at attention, and he wanted to tear it off her and experience her breasts with his mouth and hands. So he did just that. She didn’t argue when the buttons of her shirt flew every which way and the damp fabric was tossed to the floor in tatters. She simply buried her fingers in his hair as he ducked low, picked her up and attached his mouth to her soft breast, his tongue twirling around her nipple with every inch of attention he could spare. She whimpered his name, scoring her fingers down his neck.

He wasted no time. Turning, he hurried toward the nearest flat piece of furniture, finding the island of his kitchen. As he sat her down and stepped back just a moment, she attacked with vigor, dragging his shirt from his pants and tearing it open just as he had hers. He shrugged the material away and stepped up once more, reaching for her skirt, undoing it with an easy flick of his fingers before he tugged it down her round hips. Wiggling side to side, she helped him get it off until it too was tossed over his shoulder. Left in heels, her panties and black hose that reached mid-thigh, held up by attractive garters, she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever witnessed.

He reached for her, hands shaking, found her knees and slid his palms up her thighs. She gripped the edge of the countertop; her upper body arched forward, breasts reaching out for attention. He kissed her neck, across her shoulders and down her chest before he caught her sweet nipple once more. Fingers working at her garters, undoing clasps and rolling her pantyhose away, he stroked her thighs, fingers tickling beneath her knee, smiling as she jumped and laughed breathily. Finally wearing just her panties, the straps of her garter hanging off the sides of her legs, he gripped her thighs and drew her close to the edge. She reached between them, undid his pants and pushed them and his boxer-briefs down, away, before reaching beneath to grip him tight in her hand.

He said something, whether it was English or even real words, he couldn’t say. But he knew that in that moment, he wasn’t willing to part from her for anything. Arm wrapped around his neck, she dragged him up until she’d captured his lips, all the while stroking his length, pumping him in her strong, sure grip. He could hardly remember to breathe, instead leaning against her, barely holding himself up while she used her tongue and teeth and lips to explore his mouth. She smelled like the rain; cool, refreshing freedom. She used her feet to push his pants further down and away, letting her legs drag down his sides, so long and soft. She wiggled her toes at the back of his knees and he laughed lightly against her lips, his eyes opening to stare at her, to watch her as she looked up at him daringly. She was so confident, so completely sure of her and him and _them_.

As her hand slid away from him to rub his stomach slowly, methodically, he both welcomed and hated the loss of her encompassing him. If she hadn’t stopped soon he’d have been unable to hold back, but he couldn’t deny how he ached. Her fingers delicately probed his torso, following scrapes and scars with keen interest, probably reciting every story to each one. That a woman even knew him so well was comforting. Not Tess or Lois, nobody before her, had known him as well as she did. They knew parts of him, understood certain personas he showed, but the whole story, and the man behind it, hadn’t been read by any but Chloe. Logic said that was likely the foremost reason he was drawn to her, but there was so much more to her than that. The way she laughed, how carefree she was with just a smile. That gleam of mischief in her eyes when she’d done something particularly cunning. It was the warmth she so freely gave to any and all, never losing her belief in the good of people; no matter how many times they hurt her. It was how she saw in him what he thought he’d lost and she trusted him enough to be her right-hand hero.

He wanted to say something; he wanted to tell her how much this moment meant to him. But the words got caught in his throat, and for a moment he worried he might break whatever caused this, whatever made her come to him tonight. He wondered if in the morning she would disappear like the other women, like the debutantes that wanted him only for a night of passionate sex. But when she reached up, pressed her finger to his lips and shook her head just slightly, he knew that it wasn’t about words or sex, it was expressing whatever this was between them. So instead of talking, he stroked her hair back from her face, his fingers soaking through with rainwater. He dragged his hands down her back, delighting in how she shivered at his touch. And he hooked his hands around her panties, sliding them off her with slow precision, letting his fingers and his palms glide over her flesh.

She sat before him completely bare, unafraid, lacking any semblance of self-consciousness, and reached out for him to slide her hands up his chest before wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. Nose to nose, he paused, stared, smiled at her as if he were surprised and happy, and she smiled right back. He felt innocent for a moment, a fraction of time where his heart hammered and his hands shook and if she’d asked him to talk he might’ve stuttered. He hadn’t felt like this around a woman since he was sixteen and crushing on a girl whose name he couldn’t even remember now. His mind was consumed with her, her smile and her body and her scent invading his every sense.

She played with the ends of his hair, stroking the back of his neck. And he sighed, leaning forward until their foreheads were pressed together.

Her hips canted, thighs parted, and he felt the heat of her sear his skin. She was so wet, so hot against his cock, he forgot how to breathe. He had to brace his hands on the counter to hold himself up as he slid inside of her, filling her slowly, inch by inch. She moaned against his ear, gasped and rocked herself against him, drawing him deeper. He had to hold her still, had to take a second to find his restraint. Arms wrapped tight around her, his legs shook as he steadied his breathing. She kissed his neck, soothed him with her hands rubbing his back, all the while clenching and vibrating all around him.

His body tightened, coiled, and a fire burned low in his stomach, flaring through him as he finally let go. Hands wrapped around her shoulders, he caught her mouth, kissed her so needily they were both gasping for air and her nails clawed at his shoulders. From sentimental to desperate, they gripped and pulled at each other, wanting more, wanting _all_. Lifting her knees high on his sides, he slid out of her only to penetrate her seconds later with thick, heavy strokes that made her cry out his name, her head lolling back.

His mind whirled with how he could’ve had this before, could’ve taken her that night where she sat before him, naked beneath a thin robe, fresh from the shower. How he could’ve loved her in that same chair, on the floor, in his bed, and again in the shower. He could’ve had her on his plane after her brush with death, could’ve parted his pants and slid deep inside her while she straddled his lap. But he hadn’t, because then he’d been careful, uncertain, he hadn’t been willing to lose her. But now, he had it all figured out. He would have her, as long and as much as he possibly could. And he would _keep_ her.

There was no way he was letting her go, after all this, after everything that had happened between them. Hand buried in her wet hair, the smell of fresh, dewy rain on her warm skin, the heat of her thighs around his waist, of her hands pulling him close, holding on for dear life, he wouldn’t lose that. She was so tight, so warm, embracing him deep inside her like a long-lost lover welcomed home. He wanted to be everywhere at once, to show her the same feelings. He wanted to kiss the length of her legs while simultaneously enjoy the feel of her lips against his. To stroke her from head to toe, starting with the arches of her feet and exploring all of her until she was as desperate for him as he’d been for her all this time.

He slid her back against the counter, his hands finding her hips as he penetrated her from a different angle. She arched up on the countertop, her breasts jutting forward. Looking up at him, eyes locked, she reached down and covered his hands with hers, lacing their fingers. As deeply as he filled her, as quickly as they were moving, he couldn’t begin to call it anything but connecting. Like an arrow escaping a bow to find the center of its designated target, he’d landed exactly where he was meant to always be.

Her hands slid away from his, instead cupping his length on either side as it slid past her palms and deep inside her. There was something erotically intimate about having her fingers rubbing circles around him seconds before he was imbedded inside her heat. She looked and felt like the opposite of him; warm and open, accepting, while he was so strong, careful in his trust, and kept his real self hidden. But here she was, reaching for him, and he was blindly walking into her embrace. From the very beginning, when she’d looked up at him with that cheerful smile, he thought he’d met sunshine incarnate. And then to find she was playing sidekick to a superhero in her spare time only elevated her in his mind. But to see her put her own life on the backburner, wanting only justice in a world where it was so easily forgotten, he couldn’t help but see a kindred spirit. And to have her here now, like this, where before he’d thought to ignore the tension, the desire, the overwhelming connection between them, he couldn’t imagine why he’d ever thought to deny it in the first place.

“Ollie.” She breathed his name like a prayer, a desperate plea, and he answered.

Drawing her up against his chest, he held her tight with one arm, the other hooked beneath her leg, lifting it high. She whimpered against his shoulder as he slid just right against her g-spot. Nails digging into his shoulder blades, she panted at his neck while he gave her all that she wanted. He could already feel her quivering, his breath caught as he held himself back. It wasn’t until she finally screamed throatily and clenched so tight around him he could feel her heat spreading through his entirety that he exhaled, and with it, he fell apart. Shoulders slumping, he fell forward, his knees nearly giving out on him as he shook from the inside out. Euphoria like he’d never quite known before, so close and yet so far. Her heat shivered all around him while the base of his spine tingled, his hips still rocking against her. Damp now with sweat, she smelled more like him than the rain. Pressing open mouth kisses down her neck, he didn’t say a word, instead hoping that the moment just wouldn’t end.

When his legs finally stopped feeling like jell-o he picked her up into his arms and carried her to his bedroom. She didn’t protest and the rest of the night was spent tangled in the sheets, where he was sure to explore her every inch, starting at her feet like he’d wanted to and only widening his scope of interest. The sound of her voice calling his name, begging to have him inside her, would forever echo in his ears. The scent of her, the taste of her heat on his tongue, the warmth of her thighs and her arms embracing him, he wanted all of it, over and over. It wasn’t until they were both so exhausted they could hardly move that she curled up into his side and fell asleep. Her fingers stroked the hair back from his temple while she fell deeper into sleep.

It was almost noon when he woke up, disappointed to find she wasn’t next to him. Instead she was dressed in her clothes from the night before, still a little damp and wrinkled. She knelt on the bed beside him, kissed him lingeringly, and though he knew he could easily convince her to stay, he didn’t. Without a word, she left.

It was bittersweet, and while he didn’t chase after her, he desperately wanted to.

The fourth time he made a move, he did it in plain sight. The team was gathered in her tower, Clark and Lois were bickering over something, all the while making eyes at each other, and Chloe was looking through papers with a deep furrow of concentration at her brow. Jaw clenched, he looked around, took in the world he lived in and what made it move. And deciding that it was better to try and fail rather than let her go and never know, he crossed the room. Hand at the base of her spine, he spun her around, caught her easily, and with a smile at her surprise, he kissed her.

Some part of him expected a slap to the face, even a shove to the shoulder and a playful jibe to keep the others from knowing the truth of it. But she dropped her papers, wrapped her arms around his neck and gave as good as she got. She tasted even better than she had mere days before.

Lips slanting, tongue dueling, teeth nipping, it wasn’t until he felt the warmth of a tear escaping down her cheek and melting against his own that he slowed down and parted from her. Eye to eye, she smiled. Wiping away her tears, he spoke what he’d longed to say. “I’ve been waiting for this, for _you_ , for a lone time, Sidekick.”

She laughed, her eyes lightening with that cheerful sweetness he’d seen in her since day one. Sniffling, she told him, “Maybe next time you’ll stop waiting and start doing.”

Smirking, he kissed her chastely. “Message received.”

Cupping his face, she stroked her fingers back and forth. “I need this to be real,” she whispered.

“It can’t get any more real…” He stared at her levelly, honestly. “I’m all in if you are.”

She lifted a brow. “Don’t screw this up.”

He grinned. “Wouldn’t dare.”

Kissing him softly, she sighed as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “You know they’re going to have a lot of questions…” she murmured, low enough that only he could hear.

“Like?”

She looked up at him, amused. “How did this start? _When_ did this start?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I think it started the day you smiled at me.”

Her brow furrowed. “I smile at you all the time.”

“Yeah and it never quite gets old.”

She snorted. “They might want something a little more explanatory than that.”

He shrugged. “It’s all I got.”

Her brow lifted skeptically. “That’s the story we’re supposed to tell later? When people ask us how it all started?”

“You smiled… and I was a goner.” Grinning, he added, “Still am.”

Laughing softly, she shook her head. “You’re not the only one.”

“Good.” Kissing her forehead, he hugged her tight. “Because I was planning on keeping you. And kidnapping you against your will seemed like a bad idea.”

Slapping his shoulder playfully, she chuckled.

“Ready to face the firing squad?” she asked after a moment.

He didn’t want to let her go, really. But he knew he’d have to eventually.

“Do you think Lois will give me a head start before she tries to kill me?”

Smiling, she wrinkled her nose. “Mmm, no.”

Sighing, he asked her hopefully, “Could you block her when I go for the door?”

Her laughter told him he was on his own. On the bright side she’d probably bathe his wounds for him later. Holding her hand while the people around them stared on in confused anger, he knew she was worth it.


	146. To Prove a Point (And Woo The Doubtful)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Chloe lets Oliver know she doesn’t think he could possible be half as good in bed as all-too-many women have said he is, he makes it a point to prove her very, _very_ wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating** : NC17

She brought this on herself; a few snarky words about how he’d never own up to his reputation and he’d gotten that devilish look in his eye. Challenging Oliver Queen was like asking him to prove his manhood, and he certainly was.

Leaning against his kitchen island, she snorted as she read through the latest gossip magazine, a brow cocking. “Oliver Queen, a man of true passion, could satisfy any woman’s deepest desires with a simple grin. But it isn’t only his smile that’s creating a flurry of attraction from the female masses. According to a few _insiders_ , Queen is more than adequate in bed. Using words like “phenomenal,” “incredible,” and “outright orgasm-inducing by nature,” his bevy of former bedmates could only sing his praises,” she quoted from the magazine. “How much do you _pay_ these women after they leave?” she joked, smirking.

Oliver mockingly glared in her direction. “Apparently sexual favors go a long way in changing women’s opinions of you.”

Chloe was less than convinced. “I can’t tell if they were hyping you up to get the spotlight on them or if this is some misguided challenge for other men to try and outdo you…” she mused, tossing the rag away.

Handing her a cup of coffee, he smiled. “Seeing as you’re the cousin of one of my exes, I hope your lack of support in that area of expertise is because she’s still slightly bitter about the break-up and so under-qualified me.”

Lifting her mug, she inhaled deeply. “Mm, no… She only had good things to do. And one is less than bitter when getting all that you want from the alien farmboy.”

He frowned. “So your low opinion of my ability in bed comes from…?”

She grinned. “It’s not you, it’s men in general. Why you guys need your ego stroked over your sex skills I don’t know.”

“You haven’t had nearly enough sex to make that deduction,” he decided.

She scoffed. “My sex life is not only none of your business, but has been nothing less than great.”

“Yeah, Jimmy really looked like a wildcat in the sack,” he muttered sarcastically.

She simply rolled her eyes.

“When you have earth-moving, mind-altering sex then you’ll know what those women are gloating about,” he assured.

“No… when I’m offered a few thousand dollars to sing the praises of a billionaire with an ego-complex, _then_ I’ll know!”

Resting his arms on the counter beside her, he stared at her searchingly. “You really don’t think I could be _half_ as good as they’re saying…”

She reached over, patting his shoulder mockingly. “If it makes you feel any better, you still look good in leather.”

His lips pursed a moment, eyes narrowed consideringly and then he nodded. “All right… I’ll prove it.”

She nearly choked on air. “No offense, but voyeurism isn’t really my thing.”

“Second hand knowledge is never the same, Sidekick, you should know that,” he said, grinning.

Eyes widening, she hopped up from her seat. “No offense, Oliver, but I’d rather leap off this building than have sex with you.”

“That’s a lie. Humorous, but still untrue.” Stalking toward her, he could only smirk. “You think you know, so let me change your mind… For curiosity’s sake, at least.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” she replied, walking backwards, away from him. “Let’s just chalk this up to a difference in opinion.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, there are just some things I’m not willing to let you think about me.”

Her brows lifted. “How does my low opinion of you in bed hinder _anything_?”

“Besides the future possibility of us ever getting beyond the friend zone you’ve so quaintly stuck us in?”

She frowned. “This friend-zone is very safe, might I remind you. Your history with Lois kind of puts a damper on things. Not to mention the League or any other business we’ve had together.”

He shrugged. “Trust me… By tomorrow, you’ll forget every reason you ever had for why we shouldn’t have been together all along.”

She shook her head disagreeably. “No… Because tomorrow I’m going to wake up in my own bed, having purposely forgotten any suggestions you made that we have sex!”

“Not just sex, Sidekick.”

She came to a sudden halt as the wall met abruptly with her back.

“Mind-altering…” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Earth-moving…” He cupped her cheek, tilting her head until they were eye-to-eye. “Exquisitely sore sex.”

When he kissed her, any reservations she’d had were fading by the second. Even if he didn’t meet the standards put out, his lips alone had let her know that whatever Oliver Queen could do, _nobody_ could do better.

And three hours later, he was proving that fact; over and over and _over again_.

Her nails dug into the blanket, her chest heaving as she gasped desperately for air. Making noise, crying out, doing anything more than panting was simply out of the question. She could only spread her legs further, inviting him deeper inside her. He was thick, long, and he didn’t spare an inch as he drove into her with the intensity of a Mac truck. With each stroke of his overwhelming girth, he pinched her clit, sending wave after wave of euphoria through her. Her mind reeled as everything shivered and shuddered and she couldn’t focus on one direct place that felt better than the rest. Her entirety was on overload and she couldn’t find a moment to acclimate. It was too much; she could hardly remember to breathe. And still she didn’t draw away; instead she tilted her hips, punishing herself further by forcing her inner-walls to flex and accept him.

He moaned, his hand heavy on the small of her back, keeping her in place while he knelt behind her, fucking her so deeply she could nearly feel him inside her very womb. Her back was starting to hurt, tensing in rigid demand as each heavy penetration made her entire being tighten further. She could feel the tendrils of orgasm, so close and yet so far, reaching from her navel and clawing at her insides. Seven times, he’d already made her climax _seven fucking times_. And he was still riding her like there was no end in sight.

They’d been playing the flirting game for awhile now, and she wasn’t about to lie. Despite never having gone for the ultimate prize, he was still worthy of her fantasies. She could comfort herself with her fingers and an enticing image of him taking her against the desk. But the real thing was oh so much better.

When he kissed her, she felt the point he had to prove hard against her stomach. His teeth and tongue and lips were on an expert journey against her mouth, her neck and quickly traveling south. Before she knew it, he had her on his bed and she wasn’t complaining like she probably should’ve been, especially given what fight she’d put up _before_ his lips swooped down and claimed hers. She couldn’t begin to fathom how many hours he planned to keep her right where she was, lying beneath him, taking everything he had to give. She did know, however, that she’d be contently sore by tomorrow, and any ribbing on his sex skills would be a moot point. Having explored them first hand, he was better than anybody could put into words.

“Tell me again,” he huffed against her ear, his hands curling around her thighs and dragging them further apart while he drove up inside her. “How _inadequate_ I am.”

How he even managed speech, she didn’t know.

He’d stripped her bare, from her clothes to the snarky words she used like a shield, and for the first time in her life she was happy to lay down arms.

Flipping her onto her back, he pulled her up his lap, her feet planting on the mattress behind him. He wasn’t thrusting now, instead he was circling his hips, letting himself slide all around her wet passage, getting as much friction in as he could. She could only whimper, her head falling back. And with a laugh, he took her sensitive breast into his mouth, suckling and nibbling her nipple while his fingers stroked her swollen clit.

Nipping the curve of her breast, he kissed up her chest, licking the long column of her neck before he caught her face and turned her until she was eye-to-eye with him. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us, Sidekick… Anything you wanna take back?”

Hardly able to catch her breath, she swallowed tightly as she stared up at him. “That all you got?” she finally managed.

He smirked before capturing her lips in a bruising kiss and pressing his hips intently against her own. She could feel him hard inside her, stretching and filling every available crevice of her heat.

“I’m gonna make you scream,” he promised.

If she couch catch her breath, she already would have.

“And by the time I’m done with you, nobody else will ever compare.”

That’s what she was afraid of.

Lifting her up into his arms with ease, he cradled her hips with one arm and clutched her ass in the other, lifting her inches above him until he could move in and out of her without interruption. Like a ragdoll, she sat aloft, her arms around his neck, and her body shaking as impending ecstasy riddled her body. Kissing down her neck and chest, he twirled his tongue around her nipple, flicking it in time with his penetrating thrusts. It could’ve been minutes, maybe hours, but he kept her there, poised above him, wide open and accepting, so close to orgasm she was nearly in tears.

And then he dropped her back to the bed, her arms spread out in a heap, and before she could ask what he was doing, his mouth was buried in her wet heat, his tongue stroking her inside and out while his nose nuzzled her clit in tandem. Stomach arching from the bed, the only thing that kept her spine from cracking in half was his arm tossed heavy across her waist, pinning her back down to the bed. Her lungs ached as she forgot to breathe, so focused on his tongue lashing her that she caught her breath and held on for dear life.

Fingers reaching, she buried them in his hair, holding on tight as she writhed beneath him.

“Let go,” he ordered.

Her head shook from side to side, her back painful arcing off the bed.

Palm smoothing over her stomach tenderly, he said again, “Let _go_ , Chloe.”

And so she did; of fears and worry that this would end and would all be some intensely erotic dream, that he would realize just what the hell he was doing and who with and turn his back on her, that she wasn’t enough. Her entire body relaxed abruptly, from her head to her toe. And just as she inhaled a deep breath, he pushed her over the edge, his tongue and fingers working her through her orgasm until she was a puddle of euphoria, smiling ridiculously at the ceiling. And still, he wasn’t done. Climbing up her body, he sunk deep inside her again, smirking as she rocketed off the bed, her hips pressing up against his. She wasn’t even sure she could handle any more but her body was insistent, wanting all he could offer.

Fingers buried in her hair, he kissed her eyelids and her cheeks and hovered above her lips. “Now that mind-altering sex has been proven, can I make love to you?”

She stared up at him, brows furrowed. “If I wake up and this is a dream…”

He chuckled gently, kissing the tip of her nose. “Not a dream, Sidekick. If it were, I would hope getting you here would’ve been easier… Rather than a few _years_ spent avoiding the inevitable.”

She glowered. “I still think you’re too good to be true…” To prove her point, she pinched him.

“Ow?” he muttered questioningly.

Unfazed, she shrugged. “Just checking.”

Rolling his eyes, he rested some of his weight on his elbows, biting into the mattress on either side of her. “We’ve been circling each other, _this_ , for awhile now… What more do I have to prove before you give _us_ a chance?”

She thought it over, pursing her lips as he stared down at her. “Nothing,” she told him on a sigh.

But before he could get smug, she circled her hips, clenching tight around him. “However, _I_ have to prove that us mere mortals, far lesssexually active than you, can still rock your world.” Turning him over onto back, she pinned him down with her hands splayed on his chest. “I may not have a society page dedicated to my skills, but I guarantee that the only one screaming tonight, is gonna be _you_.”

Staring up at her with heated brown eyes, he grinned approvingly.

And any arrogant satisfaction he might’ve gained quickly turned into respect as she turned the tables and brought him to heights never ventured before. Letting the passion between them grow, it was a night never to be forgotten. The end of an era where any one night trysts might be able to boast and the beginning of a relationship that wasn’t lacking in any area; especially, where the bedroom was concerned.


	147. Diary of a Super Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe and Oliver are having a baby. It's a lot more complicated than first expected.

_2013_

Chloe's new best friend was Babyuniverse.com and it was a good thing her boyfriend was a billionaire or she'd be knocking on the poor house door right about now. While usually her many Watchtower screens would be lit up with information on the biggest and baddest, today they were covered in everything from nursing bras to the latest in cribs. Approaching her pregnancy as something to be solved and learned from, she had been eyes deep in everything there was out there to be ready and equipped for the coming bundle of joy. Becoming pregnant while working as the eyes and ears of the still-building Justice League hadn't been in the plan, but after a bout of nausea that just wouldn't go away, she'd cornered Emil and had him run a few tests, only to learn she was carrying a baby she hadn't been expecting.

With drug cartels, Luthor dealings, and a million other big and little problems that kept popping up, having children and a family hadn't exactly been at the top of her priority list. And still, when the news came back, even as her world of mayhem and do-gooders turned sideways, a hand fell gently to her still-flat abdomen with a shock of never-felt-before motherly desire. There were options, of course. If she decided this wasn't the place or time for a child, she could have aborted or even put her son or daughter up for adoption. But in a split-second, she'd come to a startling conclusion.

She was going to be a mom.

_Hormones hit her like a sudden brick wall and she found herself sobbing on Emil's shoulder._

_Awkward, he patted her shoulder. "Uh… Chloe… I don't want to alarm you, but I'm not exactly in the best position to comfort you. If you would just let me call one of the other—"_

_"NO!" she shouted, shaking her head suddenly._

_How was she going to tell them? Tell everyone? Hey guys, sorry I can't run your latest mission and keep you out of trouble but I'm breast feeding and lactating at the computers is so not good for the server!_

_As quickly as she was down, she was up. She had to go; she had to tell Oliver!_

_Hopping down from her seat, she sniffled and grinned at Emil. "Thank you, and sorry…" She motioned to the wet spots on his shirt from where she'd buried her face. "Don't worry. I'll take care of this. Just don't call in the cavalry; I'd kind of like to deal with this on my own. All right?"_

_He nodded, still looking uncomfortable. "You'll tell Oliver?" he wondered._

_She smiled. "I'm on my way there now."_

_He breathed a sigh of relief and gave her a nod of farewell._

_And then she was off; leaving behind the one world she knew so well for another she didn't know at all. While scary, it was exhilarating all the same._

Growing up with her dad, she couldn't say she'd exactly seen the motherly touch in her every-day life. The only person who fit that category was Martha Kent and while she loved the woman and the warm farm life she'd created for Clark, Chloe was a city girl and she imagined her lifestyle was going to be different than what Martha might know. Deciding she had a lot of learning to do, she jumped into it head first, starting at about the same moment she realized just how big it all was.

_Parking in the underground slot beneath the Queen apartment building, she absently took the elevator to the top floor. Chewing on her lip, she was trying to reason everything out in her head; what she would do, how she would tell him. While there was excitement brewing in her stomach, there was fear chewing at the frayed ends. This was all new; all confusing. She and Oliver had been together for nearly three years; a relationship that was borne more of comfort and friendship during trying times and weathered through the worst of it to become something deeper and stronger than she'd ever experienced before. But neither of them had spoken of children and yet here she was; climbing off his elevator to tell him this monumental piece of information._

_Her knees shook as she walked from the main room to the living room, past the kitchen and into the training area he had set up. She paused, listening for the telling sign of the_ thwack _that accompanied each arrow but heard nothing. Pushing the door open a few inches she found him with his feet in the air, shirtless and sweating as he balanced on his arms in a yoga pose that left him panting, his muscles straining to keep him steady. Chewing her lip, she leaned against the doorjamb and felt a familiar and consuming jolt of comfort. Smiling lightly, she watched silently as he slid one leg down, balancing his foot against the other thigh._

_"You come for the yoga-porn or did you miss me?" he called out, his voice slightly strained._

_As she rolled her eyes, he rolled onto his feet to a standing position._

_"Yoga-porn, of course," she replied, grinning._

_With a light laugh, he crossed the floor, leaning down to press a short kiss to her lips before tugging her after him and making his way to the kitchen._

_While he dug in the fridge for a bottle of water, she hopped up onto the counter and simply waited, watching._

_This man was the father of her unborn child; him in all of his arrogant intelligence, justice-for-all mentality and charmingly handsome looks. She sighed. Would their son or daughter look like him? Would they have those brown eyes and stubborn chin? Suddenly, she frowned. She'd have to beat the girls off her son with a stick if he looked like Oliver. With an inner-laugh, she realized she was already worrying about something that was years away._

_As Oliver turned back around, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle, he spotted her unusually tilted smile and cocked a brow. "What's going on in that head of yours, Professor?" he asked, crossing to stand between her knees, one of his hands rubbing her thigh in an absently affectionate way._

_Her heartbeat sped up, pounding in her ears. Would he be happy? she wondered. Did he want this?_

_Regardless, it was happening. But still, some part of her was already attached and excited._

_"We've gotta talk," she murmured._

_His smile faded. "Conversations that start like that never end well…" He looked her up and down casually. "You're not leaving me for someone richer, are you?"_

_She snorted. "Be serious."_

_"You're right… There's only guy that could be and Bruce isn't really your type," he mused. "Too dark and broody… You'd spend your whole life trying to get a smile out of him and failing miserably."_

_She laughed, shaking her head._

_Draining the water bottle, he tossed it into the recycle bin and then planted a hand on either side of her before leveling his face with hers, mouths just inches apart. "So let's talk…" he suggested lowly, nuzzling her nose with his._

_Licking her lips, she sighed. "You're not going to distract me, Ollie… This is important."_

_He frowned teasingly. "So is not seeing my very sexy girlfriend all day long… Where've you been, anyway? I've been calling and you haven't been answering. If you hadn't shown up, I'd have sent out the cavalry."_

_Chloe pursed her lips. "What is with men and the cavalry? I find my record for getting into trouble has been steadily decreasing in the last few years."_

_He smirked. "That's because you have a band of heroes at your beck and call."_

_Sliding her fingers through his hair, she shrugged. "Well, there is_ that _…"_

_He cocked a brow. "So? What life-altering news do you have for me now that you've left your tower and come to find your waiting prince?"_

_"Great prince he is," she muttered. "I could've sworn the fairytales said the prince_ saved _the princess, not just waited around for her to get herself out of wherever she was."_

_"Well… Those princes didn't know their princesses as well as me," he argued, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I know mine is no damsel in distress… and if she was in trouble, I would've seen it coming by now."_

_Her lips curled. "You think you know me so well?"_

_"I_ know _it," he boasted._

_"Then what big secret do I have to share, Oliver?" she asked, drawing his hand from her hair and twining their fingers. "What life-altering news did I dig up today?" Kissing the side of his hand, she dragged it down her face and along the front of her body before resting their hands against her stomach._

_He stared searchingly into her eyes, as if he could read her, as if it was in her gaze or her face, written there in the depths of her green irises. And then his brow furrowed, his eyes falling to their joined hands, to her own thumb that was stroking not his hand, but her stomach. He swallowed tightly, his jaw falling loose. "Are you…?"_

_She stared, waited, a faint smile turning up her lips._

_"Are you pregnant?" he finally asked, his voice low and thick._

_She couldn't figure out his reaction yet and so she simply nodded, watching for the telltale signs of either excitement or disappointment. Her heart thumped wildly in wait._

_He said nothing, still staring at her stomach, at their interlocked fingers._

_"A baby," he murmured. He grinned, a cracked sigh escaping him. "Our baby."_

_Tears sprung hotly to her eyes, spilling down her cheeks with little warning. A laugh, short and emotional slipping from her. He looked up then, caught her eyes and reached up to wipe her tears before he leaned forward and kissed her desperately, deeply. She sighed, leaning into him with all of the trust and comfort as ever. Fingers buried in her hair, he cradled her neck and held her close as he kissed her breathless. When they drew apart she was drowsy with emotion and lazy affection._

_He looked proud, a little scared but_ happy _. She wanted to cry all over again._

_"Not the news I was expecting," he admitted. "But definitely better."_

_Looping her arms around his neck, she nodded, her eyes falling closed as he kissed her forehead. Holding her for a few minutes, he rubbed her back, hand sliding to cradle her flat stomach every few minutes as if he thought it would suddenly grow large when he wasn't looking. Half-asleep, she lay in the warm embrace of his hugging arms, a soothing rock from side to side._

_"When d'you think we should start baby-proofing?" she asked him, her mind suddenly whirling to life. "And we'll have to put better locks on that arrow display you have. Those things are entirely too sharp…" She chewed her lip, tugging her head back to stare at him. "I have to switch to_ decaf _!" she exclaimed, horrified._

_Oliver laughed. "We'll survive," he assured, tugging a piece of her hair teasingly. "Try to enjoy the moment before jumping into the thick of it."_

  
_"But we've only got like eight months," she argued, jumping down from the counter. "I have to do research!" Not waiting for a reply, she hurried to her computer._

_Only fifteen minutes into her searches, he dragged her away, kissing her to distraction and dragging clothes from her before she could argue that their soon-to-be child needed her to be vigilant. Celebration, he argued, lifting her into his arms and walking them to their bedroom. While she supposed taking inventory of everything she would need could wait a little while, tomorrow would be crammed full with a Chloe Sullivan special on Motherhood 101._

"Are you _still_ looking for a crib?" a voice called out from behind her.

Turning in her seat, she spotted Victor as he stepped into her inner sanctum of computers.

He cocked a brow at her many screens. "I thought you picked one out last week."

"I did," she admitted, chewing her lip. "But then I saw this special on faulty cribs and I realized that the company that made the crib I wanted was a shareholder in the company that made the other cribs…"

"That doesn't mean they have the same shotty workmanship, Chlo… It just means they made a less-than-sound investment."

She frowned. "You're starting to sound like Oliver."

He smirked. "Probably because he's been talking about you for the last three hours."

Flushing, she shrugged. "I might've woken him up at 3am to tell him I thought the color scheme in the nursery was all wrong."

Laughing incredulously, Victor shook his head. "That's the third time you've changed it."

"I can't help it!" she exclaimed, staring at him with big green eyes that threatened to fill with tears or darken with rage at any given moment. He took a step back just in case. "All the books say yellow is neutral but I hate it! I can't look at it anymore. Yellow bedspreads, yellow walls, yellow teddy bears and balls!"

He blinked. "Were you aware that rhymed or—"

"And then the orange! I thought hey, maybe that would work for either one. It's a nice color; kind of festive but fits with an autumn baby." She shook her head violently. "Until the dreams anyway! Pumpkin baby, Vic! My baby had a pumpkin for a head!"

Trying desperately not to laugh at her while she seemed so upset, he pursed her lips. "Chloe… we've all seen the ultrasounds… Your baby has a normal, average, _human_ head."

Narrowing her eyes, she glared at him. "Don't mock me!"

"I'm not," he said, suppressing his smile. "But seriously… Oliver's going crazy. I asked him about my next mission and he handed me paint swatches. He said the world of crime could wait because I had a nursery to paint and a crib to dismantle." He shook his head, frowning. "And when Bart said he was hungry, Oliver told him the baby food was in the counter under the cutlery… You're stocked up for a couple years, I might add."

Chloe crossed her arms over her distended stomach. "I'm prepared! And I'm sorry if your job has taken on a more domestic setting but it'll be over soon enough. Just as soon as we repaint the nursery gold—"

"Gold?" He sighed, rolling his eyes upward. "Oliver said you wanted silver!"

"I did," she admitted before wincing, "And then I realized how gaudy that would look. I don't want my child growing up in a room with fake sparkle everywhere…"

He let out a long, heavy breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Chloe… I love you. You're one of my best friends and I would sooner fry my circuits than hurt you. But seriously, woman!"

Suddenly, Chloe's eyes filled with tears and her shoulders began to shake.

With wide eyes, Victor stumbled forward. "Whoa, wait, no, listen! I'm sorry, I am… Hey, I'll get the gold, okay? I'll have it all repainted before you even get home."

She sniffled. "Really? Because I-I know how awful I'm being but I j-just want…" She took in a shaky, heaving breath and he cringed.

"I'm on my way to the paint store now, okay?" Hurrying backwards, he looked sorrowfully back at her before rushing out of the room.

With a quick grin, Chloe wiped her face. Sometimes, her hormone overload really did come in handy.

…

Oliver was exhausted; she could see that just by the way he was sitting on the couch. His head bent back and his shoulders slouched, he looked half-asleep when she made her way over to him. Looking up as she took a seat, panic fleshed out his face immediately. "What's up? What's wrong? Is it the paint?" He sighed. "It hasn't dried yet. You might like it better in the morning…"

Smiling, she patted his chest. "It's okay, Super-Dad, I'm not here to cry, rant or make you do anything…"

He stared at her as if he didn't believe her and a chuckle escaped.

"I know I've been running you ragged and I'm sorry… I guess I got more than a little carried away and you've been a real trooper through it all."

Sighing, the stress seemed to seep away from him. "Really? So no more crazy-Chloe at three in the morning?" he wondered hopefully.

Laughing under her breath, she reached up and smoothed her hand over his cheek. "No more crazy-Chloe."

"Thank god," he breathed in relief. Reaching over, he pressed a hand to her stomach, rubbing in circles to see if he could find their baby kicking. "How're you feeling tonight?"

She smiled lightly, resting her head on his shoulder. "Calm… A little tired but good."

"You wanna go to bed?" he immediately offered.

"It's six and you haven't had dinner."

He shook his head. "Not hungry." With a yawn, he rested his head against hers, his arm wrapping around her shoulders and drawing her closer to him.

"You've been working at QI, for the League, _and_ running around for me… You should have an appetite the size of Bart's given how rarely you take the time to sit down and eat."

"I'm handling it," he assured, fingers drawing figure-eights along her stomach in the way he knew was soothing to her.

"We could order in," she persisted. "I can't really cook with this massive child of yours and you don't look like you can even _stand_ right now…"

"Are _you_ hungry?"

She snorted. "I'm pregnant. I'm _always_ hungry."

He chuckled. "So we'll order in… In a minute."

Closing her eyes, she took a deep, relaxing breath and simply settled into his arms. It wasn't until his hand stopped rubbing her stomach, fifteen minutes later, that she realized he'd fallen asleep. Knowing that the slightest movement from her would have him jarred away and running for the emergency birth bag, she stayed where she was a little while longer. Besides, it was nice to just be held and hold him; it seemed life was more hectic than ever and if this was just the few minutes they got in between her hormonal outbursts and his many jobs, she would take it as is.

…

"What do you think of this one?" she wondered aloud. "Black with skulls and crossbones…" She smirked. "It'll make your mommy look badass, huh?" She received no answer, as usual, but it didn't stop her from talking to her baby bump. Looking around to see the room still empty, she rubbed her stomach, "Don't tell daddy I said ass… He's been all over Bart for it lately."

Scrolling down the page, Chloe chewed her lip thoughtfully. "The leopard print bag is kinda cute… If I know your dad, and I do, he'll want me to get something in green though." She rolled her eyes, amused. "When you get older you'll realize just how big he is on _symbolism_."

When a small kick registered on her left, she smiled. "Or maybe you already do… Not even born and he's already told you his secret…" She shook her head. "And he thinks he's so mysterious…"

"Well…" she sighed, "They've got a nice brown suede bag… Hmm, mini though…" Looking down, she cocked a brow, "Just to be sure, maybe we should keep with the large bags… Preparation is key."

Another kick made her nose wrinkle. "I'm going to assume that was you agreeing and not being like your dad and telling me that I'm prepared enough for an army troop of children." Shaking her head, she qualified, "I know there's only one of you in there… I've seen the sonograms… If I'd let him, Oliver would have a shirt made with your picture on it… I just want to be ready for you. As ready as someone who fights crime and never expected to have a baby with her boyfriend slash boss can be…" She stared down at her stomach for a moment, chewing her lip. "There _is_ only one of you right? There's not a second hiding behind you? Because if there is, tell me now… I'll have a lot more online shopping to do…"

Receiving no kick, she sighed. "You think your dad would notice if I got two of everything, just in case?"

A kick told her yes, yes he would.

"Fine… But I'm putting it on my wish list just to be sure…"

…

She _really_ missed him. Not even five feet away but she missed him; missed the way she felt went he had his hands all over her, how consumed she could become as he was kissing her. Gone were the days when he would push her skirt to her hips and screw her on her desk or against the wall. After, she dearly hoped, when the baby had arrived, they would be able to do those things again. Maybe not in such obvious and public areas; she wasn't about to scar their child. But there was always such passion between her and Oliver and she couldn't help but be scared that some of it might have waned.

He still touched her. All the time. Petting her hair out of her eyes, rubbing his hand up and down her back, hugging her close and the kissing… well, that never got old and it never really slowed or stopped. But she missed how he would sneak up on her, his hands rubbing her thighs beneath her skirt; how he'd bend her across a desk, her hand and cheek against cold wood while he teased her through her damp panties until she _begged_ him to have her already. That couldn't happen now, not with the obvious bump on her stomach. He was always worried it would somehow squish and their baby would be gone. There was a humor to it but still she couldn't help but hate that they had to be careful, that it was always at the back of his mind.

They'd made love since she found out she was pregnant, but there was no more rough, animalistic, wonderfully sore sex happening. He was scared. The fact that some small being that wasn't even born yet could do that to Oliver was humbling. But she missed the intensity between them, the intimacy of his rough hands on her skin and his teeth and mouth marking her as his. It wasn't that their lovemaking didn't satisfy her; it did, _every_ time. However, she knew that Oliver had a darker side, a rougher edge to him. It might not always come out but she'd experienced it and she loved that he could share that side of himself with her. And now she felt like it was being forced down and away because he was becoming a dad; she didn't want that to go away or dampen. He could be both. He could be a father to their baby and he could be that sensual and sexual man that she was both physically and mentally attracted to.

The doctor's had given her a clean bill of health. She had a low-risk pregnancy that meant very little chance of complications and so they weren't being ordered to stop having sex or acting as they normally did. That didn't stop Oliver from putting the brakes on things though; in fact, it had been a few weeks since they'd done more than kiss or cuddle and damn it her libido was tired of it. She was a young, passionate woman and pregnant or not, she wanted to fuck and be fucked by her young and sexy boyfriend.

He was reading, his brow furrowed and his head tipped to one side as he perused the latest book he'd been into; it seemed he'd been reading more and more lately. Pursing her lips, she wondered if he was trying to distract himself. He had to be feeling the same frustration she was, maybe even more so. Oliver was well known to the public as a playboy, less so lately when it was obvious he was in a monogamous relationship with her. But still, he'd been used to regular sex and she trusted him enough to know he wasn't doing anything outside of their relationship. Which meant his many books and work papers were a cover; a distraction against the need still between them. Wanting to prove her point, and have a little fun, she put it to a test.

It was a little harder than usual to look and feel sexy while pregnant; her stomach wasn't exactly _small_ anymore and they both knew it. But there was also something intimate about knowing that her belly was round with _his_ child. Wiggling down the couch, she put her head on his shoulder, played innocent as she read a few lines of his book. _Boring_. Not even a fictional spy book or something truly interesting; how did he get into this stuff? With a sigh, she nuzzled her forehead against his neck and felt the faint whiskers brush her skin. A shiver slid down her spine, tingled, reminding her of hours spent with those whiskers _everywhere_. Of his mouth buried in places only he would ever touch again, of his jaw scraping along her thighs, behind her knees, every tender spot that made her hot, made her _wet_.

Licking her dry lips, she slid a hand along his thigh, not disappointed when it jumped between her fingers. He cleared his throat, turned the page on his book, and furrowed his brows, trying to concentrate. Grinning, she slid her fingers back and forth, in slow circles, drawing up between his legs and then away as her touch grew closer and closer to the bulge forming in his jeans.

"Are you thirsty?" he asked suddenly, sitting forward. "You want some tea? Juice? Milk?"

She stared at him, cocked a brow. "No."

"Really?" He swallowed tightly. "I'm parched. Really dried up…" As he shuffled closer to the edge of the couch to stand up, she shook her head.

"Sit down."

He frowned back at her. "You really wanna dehydrate the father of your baby, Sidekick?"

Snorting, she stared at him until he leaned back, sinking back into the couch. His knee jumped, foot tapping along the floor. Reaching across, she plucked his book from his hand and tossed it to the couch behind her. He opened his mouth to protest but the hand on his chest stopped him. With careful precision, she climbed into his lap, legs positioned on either side of him, her stomach forming a noticeable distance between them. If he didn't have such long legs, she wasn't even sure she'd fit in his lap. It might've made her cry, hormonal torture, if she wasn't so adamant that they finally did something more than cuddle.

"I want you to touch me," she told him.

He stared, blinked. "I'm touching you right now."

Frowning, she glared. "Oliver, _seriously_ …"

Wincing, he lifted a shoulder. "I _can't_."

Emotion flooded her face, an ache in her chest made her breath hitch. "You don't find me attractive anymore," she murmured quietly.

Eyes widening, his lips firmed in outrage. "Chloe… You're beautiful, _gorgeous_ …"

"Then _why?_ " she sniffled. Her eyes filled with tears that she angrily wanted to wipe away.

Sighing, he ran a hand down his face. "I can't be gentle," he breathed.

Chloe shook her head. "You've _been_ gentle… Weeks, hell, _months_. That's _all_ you've been."

Nodding, his eyes widened. "Yeah, I know, I _tried_ … But whenever I get near you now I just want to…" he trailed off.

"Fuck me," she offered, smiling.

"Yes," he groaned, frowning. "Why does that make you happy?"

She laughed, a giddy triumph welling in her chest. "Because that's real… Because making love is one thing and screwing until we're awesomely sore is another and we had it down perfectly!"

Slowly, a smirk tugged at his lips. Reaching up, he tucked her hair behind her ear. "I don't want to hurt you… Or our baby."

Cupping his face, she stroked beneath his eyes. "You _won't_."

Staring at her searchingly, he swallowed tightly. "You've gotta stop me if I do… If you're uncomfortable or it feels weird, if anything goes wrong…"

There was something so sweet about how worried he was, and all the same she was tired of it. With a sigh, she reached forward and without preamble tore his shirt open, sending buttons flying everywhere. "Yeah, yeah, I'll use a safe word. Now get your clothes off and make me feel like a woman!"

Staring down at his shirt, he glanced back at her with an amused tilt to his head. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"

Rolling her eyes, she leaned forward, "Love words later, Queen. Right now, I want you to _fuck me_." Taking his mouth with unabashed desire, she grinned triumphantly as his hands worked her breasts free of her top. _Finally_ , was all she could think before she was swept up in him.

…

He thought she was sleeping. She knew because he was whispering. And when she was awake he talked loudly, as if he thought he had to penetrate her entire stomach to get to the baby. But with her lying down for a nap on the couch, he had assumed she was already fast asleep and so he knelt next to the couch, rubbing her belly and whispering to their unborn child.

"Okay, so here's the thing… You've got six more weeks to go and I'm really hoping you stick to that schedule. Daddy's gotta make a trip out of town and I'll be at least a week, so please, _please_ don't spring a surprise hello on us. I've missed out on a lot as it is and you and your mom are my highlights so I'd rather not watch you come into this world through Uncle Victor's videos or hear all about it through your Uncle Bart's quirky commentary. So do daddy a big favor and hang tight for awhile, all right buddy?"

His talking received a small kick that she knew he felt because his hand stilled. She didn't have to open her eyes to know he was grinning. And to think, at one point she'd been worried he wouldn't be excited to be a dad… Now it was one of a handful of _highlights_ in his life.

Tears sprung thickly to her eyes and she couldn't hide a sniffle.

Oliver chuckled. "I knew you were awake…"

Looking over at him, she frowned to hide her smile. "I didn't want to interrupt daddy-baby time…"

He cocked a brow. "You didn't want me to be careful with my words and figured eavesdropping was the better of the two options."

She sighed. He knew her entirely too well sometimes.

Deciding to change the subject, she reached across to tug on his loosened tie. "So you're skipping town for a week?"

His miserable expression was all the answer she needed. "If it was up to me, I wouldn't be… But it seems like there's a meeting taking place far, far away from civility that I wasn't exactly invited to."

"So you're crashing, making your point and putting all those stuffy suits back in their places, is that right?" she replied, smirking.

He grinned. "Something like that."

"And you think it'll take a whole week?" She shook her head. "I've seen you work your magic on the business world's upper crust and they fold as easily as they scam."

"True," he agreed, nodding. "But I have some more leather-involved business in around the same area too."

Her brows furrowed. "Why didn't I hear about this?"

He feigned an innocent expression. "It was brought to my attention during nap-time?"

Chloe glowered. "Ollie… I won't be pushed out of Watchtower mode just because it's getting closer to baby-green's due date."

"I'm not pushing," he argued, "So much as carefully avoiding using you."

"You think you're clever but you're really only pissing off your baby-mama," she replied, half-jokingly.

With a look of mock-serious, he put his hands on either side of her belly. "Language, Miss. Baby-Mama."

"I hate you," she muttered uselessly.

He grinned, leaning over her to kiss her tenderly, lingering against her lips. "You love me."

"Occasionally," she replied on a sigh. "When you bring me chocolate."

Laughing lightly, he reached behind to the coffee table and produced a burgundy box with a gold stamp and brown bow. "For occasions such as this," he murmured, dropping the box on her rounded stomach.

"Oooh," she moaned, already licking her lips. " _Godiva truffles…_ "

A 12 Months of Godiva 18 piece truffle box to be exact.

She hadn't even tasted one yet and she was in heaven.

"Oh, I _do_ love you," she exclaimed gleefully.

Chuckling, he nodded. Kissing her forehead as he stood, he called over his shoulder. "They probably won't hold you over while I'm gone, but they'll at least take the edge off."

"If I wasn't as giant as an elephant right now, I'd so be proving my love for you and chocolate right now."

Eyebrows rising with interest, Oliver backed up a step and stared at her hopefully. "We have _very_ different views of how you look, Sidekick…"

Pursing her lips, she stared at him suspiciously. "So I see an elephant and you see… _what?_ A hippo? Small whale?"

Walking back toward her, he shook his head while unbuttoning his shirt. "A very beautiful woman… carrying my very beautiful child."

Something in her chest heaved, moved, sparked a tenderness she often quelled with sarcasm. "You're kinda perfect, Oliver Queen."

Half his mouth lifted with a smile. "I spent a lot of time with my equally perfect fiancée."

That had her frowning. "Girlfriend."

"For today," he allowed. "But one of these days…"

With a wink, he turned and continued back to their bedroom.

Sighing to herself, Chloe broke open her chocolates. She wasn't going to be enjoying that entirely too good looking body of his for awhile yet. At least she had some delicious truffles to muffle the disappointment.

…

One week became two and Chloe was sorely missing her boyfriend as she padded around the apartment with very little to do. "Your dad better bring me home some very good souvenirs, baby-green, or he'll be spending the next week in the dog house…" she grumbled while filling a pot with water for her tea.

A kick on her left was her only argument.

She frowned. "You always take his side," she muttered. "You know, he's not the one preparing for hours upon hours of intense labor…" Sighing, she rolled her eyes. "Never mind that I didn't do my stretches this week… Whenever I bend like that I worry I'll spring a leak."

A double-kick she took as an apology and rubbed her belly affectionately. "In a month, it'll be worth it…" She assured, before adding, "Unless you're some genetically engineered false-pregnancy that ends up trying to take over the world…"

No kick.

"Sorry," she said, flushing. "Mom's had a weird life and you can't expect her not to question every good thing that happens…"

Taking her tea off as the pot whistled, she poured the hot water into her mug and dipped the bag in and out, watching as it turned a deep liquid brown. "Makes you feel better, I even questioned your dad's good guy vibe when he and I first got together. Fortunately, especially for you, he passed the tests with flying colors…"

A deep, familiar laugh alerted her to the fact that she and baby-green were not the only participants in the one-sided conversation. Walking tiredly into her scope of sight, Oliver was half-smiling at her. His clothes were wrinkled, a duffel bag was over one shoulder and he looked like he hadn't slept in a long day or two.

"Hey," she greeted, smiling. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

"Forced the pilot into an earlier flight." He shrugged, dropping his bag to the floor. "Upsides to owning my own jet."

Chuckling, she walked toward him and wrapped her arms tight around his waist, resting her face against his chest. Unfortunately, it left her standing awkwardly sideways as her stomach was too large for them to fit as well as they had eight months earlier. Hands rubbing up and down her back, he rested his chin on her head. "So what tests did I pass exactly?"

She laughed, rubbing her face against his chest. "Just the criminally-insane, out-to-destroy-the-world, only-interested-in-Chloe-to-get-to-Clark tests… You know, you're usual every-day stuff…"

Brows furrowed, he looked down at her. "You wondered if I was with you to get to Clark?" He snorted. "If I remember correctly, that would've been pretty much the worst idea yet considering how less-than-excited he was when he found us at the same B&B he and Lois were staying in…"

She nodded. "So you passed that test early on… But I've had some really screwed up boyfriends in the past and I had to be sure."

"And those were your parameters? Don't be crazy, homicidal or want to get closer to Clark for unknown reasons?" He frowned. "Nothing in there about smart, handsome or devilishly charming though… Was I just an upside to a predominately disturbing past?"

"You were unexpected," she admitted, staring up at him with affectionate green eyes. "I kept looking for what would screw us up and when I couldn't find anything I was even _more_ suspicious…"

Pursing his lips, he nodded. "Even tried to sabotage us."

Her brow furrowed. "When?"

"Siphoning money from my business ring a bell?" he drawled, amused.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. " _Borrowing_ …"

"Still expecting that check in the mail," he mused mockingly.

"Does surrogacy count? I hear it pays good," she muttered drolly.

"It's not surrogacy if the baby is _yours_ too."

"You won't know for sure until it comes out with all ten fingers and toes… I refuse to be optimistic until it doesn't try to kill us or blow up the world."

He grinned, tucking her hair behind her ear. "And all this baby stuff, that's just a precaution in case it really is a healthy baby we made and not a very elaborate trick?"

Pursing her lips in a pout, she glared at him before pressing her face into his chest once more. "Shut up."

A kick registered in her stomach and fluttered against his enough that he jumped a little. "Huh… So that's what that feels like?"

She snorted. "Trust me… It's different from the inside."

With a deep chuckle, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and walked them into the living room. "Why don't you fill me in on your last couple weeks with me and then I'll tell you all about mine?"

Snuggling into his side as they sat down on the couch, she took a deep breath. "Now… before you judge, listen to my reasons… The gold wasn't working, so I had Victor bring in the paint chips again…"

Shaking his head, he stroked her hair, listening to every little detail his neurotic girlfriend had to tell him. And she loved him all the more for it.

…

Pain.

And a _lot_ of it.

Chloe came awake on a gasp, her hands falling to both cradle her stomach and press against the persistent ache in her lower back. "Ohhh…" she moaned, brows furrowed tightly, "That is _so_ not nice to mommy, baby-green!"

Clenching her teeth through the waves of pain that tightened her entire body, she tried to breathe through it before cursing Lamaze and its crap teachings. As the pain lessened, she turned to shake Oliver awake, clenching his arm and pushing his shoulder. "Ollie… Oliver… _Wake up!_ "

He sat up abruptly, eyes still closed. "What? What time is it? Is it the green? We'll repaint tomorrow!" he slurred tiredly.

She would've laughed but another shudder of pain caught her. " _Ahhhrrrrggg…_ "

Blinking wildly, Oliver realized what was happening and threw off the blanket before rushing toward the emergency birth bag, tripping over something on the way. She winced as he landed face down on the floor. "Ow," he muttered, before shaking it off and getting up. He hit the light to give him a better chance at seeing where he was going.

Chloe was sitting cross-legged on the bed, panting. "Early… Too early…" she argued.

Oliver grinned. "Since he's ours, I guess that would make him right on time."

She glared at him but a smile pulled at her mouth.

Equipped with the bag tossed over his shoulder and his shoes on, Oliver stood in front of her holding her shoes and a coat.

She laughed through her ragged breathing. "Ollie… You're naked."

Looking down, he cursed, rolled his eyes and then kicked his shoes off before tossing the bag free and rooting around for something quick to pull on. Wearing sweatpants and a college hoodie, he stuffed his feet back in his shoes, circled the bed to get hers on her and then helped her onto her feet before wrapping the coat around her shoulders. "We good?"

She nodded hastily, hurrying toward the elevator while rubbing her stomach.

"You just couldn't wait, could you?" she murmured to the baby. "Do mommy a favor and at least get here quickly…" As they rode the elevator down to the parking garage, she frowned. "Well, not too quickly… Wait for the doctor, anyway." She glanced at Oliver. "Giving birth in a car isn't the memory I really want for this."

Oliver chuckled under his breath, helping her into the passenger seat before he rounded to get in the driver's.

He fairly raced toward the Metropolis General Hospital and then _carried_ her inside to yell for help and exclaim to anybody that was listening that she was in labor. A nurse calmly helped her into a wheelchair and brought her to the maternity ward, only telling them both to breathe. Oliver was jumpy, holding one of her hands and looking around as if he expected something to jump out from around the corner.

It didn't take long for them to set her up in a room and soon enough a doctor had come in to see how long it would be. With Oliver in the hallway calling friends and family, she stared at the doctor darkly. "Listen, I'm sure you're used to this and you'll have a lot of breathing techniques that're supposed to lessen the pain, but it doesn't. Don't talk down to me, don't tell me any of the 'he-he-hoo' crap works, just deliver this baby in all of its perfection and try to make it hurt as little as possible. Got that?"

He blinked at her. "Yes?"

"I'm going to pretend that was a statement and not a question."

Uncertain, the doctor stood. "I'll get your husband for you."

"Boyfriend," she corrected.

Walking through the door, Oliver argued, "Fiancée."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Are the guys--?"

She didn't even finish her question before Bart was standing in the room, staring at screens and fiddling with wires. "So how long's this gonna take, anyway? Think I can borrow it for a few minutes? There's this gorgeous mamacita in Mexico that _loves_ kids…" He grinned at them, chuckling at their murderous expressions. "Just kidding, jeez… How's my 'Licious doing? You leave the billionaire and realize I'd make an awesome step-dad yet?"

Snorting, Chloe shook her head. "Sorry, still got the hots for your boss."

He shrugged as if it was just his luck and then walked around the room in boredom. "So, seriously… How long's this gonna take?"

Eighteen hours, twenty-three minutes.

Sweaty, exhausted and hoarse from yelling, Chloe Sullivan gave birth to a six pound, two ounce baby boy that came into the world screaming at the top of his lungs. In only seconds he'd been cleaned up and laid in her arms, wiggling with his scrunched up face and balled fists. She didn't think she'd cry but she sobbed, staring up at an equally emotional Oliver as he blinked back tears and leaned across the bed to kiss her. Sniffling, she ran her fingers along the tuft of black hair on her son's tiny head. "He's so small…"

"He's beautiful." Oliver's voice was hoarse, his hand shaking as he cupped their son's head. Resting his cheek on her hair, he breathed, "Thank you."

Shaking her head, she reached up to touch his face. "He's _ours_ … Not mine or yours… _Ours_ , Ollie."

And standing in a room where nurses and doctors came and went, talking about the science of it all, a family of three enjoyed their first few moments of togetherness before the crowd of friends would interrupt.

Unbeknownst to the newborn baby, Connor Gabriel Queen lay in their strong, loving arms and had no idea that from that day forward he _completed_ them.

[ **End** ]


	148. A Life Well Spent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe couldn't imagine her life being spent in any better way than this. 

Having anyone at her back was a sign of serious trust, and even with the men in the League, the guys she'd trust with her life, she still sometimes flinched. There was too much backstabbing in life, too many near-death experiences not to have her jump here or there. But all it took was the scent of him, the touch she knew so well, and she was calm. Of all the people in her life, Oliver fell in the one category that meant explicit and unbending trust. It had taken time, effort, a lot of mistakes and forgiveness, but when they got to that point, there was nothing that could rock them unsteady.

And now, here they were, five years down the road and taking a much-needed break at a Hotel fit for, well, a _Queen_. With his resources, they could go anywhere imaginable, to places people only _dreamed_ of visiting. But work was never so forgiving as to leave them alone for long. And while Queen Industries could be put off for a while, saving the world wasn't always so easily ignored. This was a job; just another stop-that-guy-or-that-group-before-they-destroy-what-good-is-left mission that brought them to Berlin, Germany with a private and very exclusive room at The Westin Grand. When she asked what made him pick that specific hotel, he had said simply, "They have bulletproof windows." And didn't that just sum up their life entirely too well?

Chloe was well aware that Oliver could take her anywhere, could pay for anything she ever desired, but it wasn't that which kept her interested. They could've been in a dive down some dark, dingy street where only the truly brave would venture, in a room that boasted no more than a bed one might want to sleep on with the added benefit of a blanket between them and the likely unwashed sheets. It wasn't the money, the grandeur or publicity, that had Chloe Sullivan so close to Oliver. It was the love and trust they shared and built together. Through tough times and good, laughter and tears, they stuck it through. Where others might've left, given up, they didn't.

Many girlfriends might resent his many business and League-related trips, but she had no reason to, because she was right there along with him. They tried the long-distance thing; phone calls and bills that even alarmed him and promises of making up for lost time. It didn't work. She wanted to be with him and he wanted her there too, and so she made the Watch Tower as portable as possible and she road shot gun all over the very broad and often dangerous world. The society pages had pegged them as the couple who just couldn't stay still; often going on long trips to exotic countries and beaches, spending their time between the sheets or bathing in the sun. She was fairly certain she'd have a better tan if that were true. Instead, they moved from city to city, back alley to skyscraper roofs, fighting all that came at them, while the world went on unaware.

Job well done, hands brushed of the latest problem, they retired to their suite for some one-on-one time before setting out early the next day to yet another point of suspicion. Bags already packed save for the clothes they planned to wear the next day, they were quick to strip down to nothing and leave tossed articles of stiff clothes scattered along the floor. Oliver picked her up and carried her to the bed, grinning as she let out a shriek of surprise when his arm swung her legs out from beneath her and hefted her up against his chest. He laid her gently on her stomach, at the very edge of the bed. When she moved to turn onto her back, he stilled her, his knuckles sliding down her spine and stilling her movements.

The mere touch of his fingers, calloused from years of work with his bow, had a shaky breath escaping her. The man still had the same effect on her, even after four years. She imagined that was a good sign. Lifting up so her elbows bit into the mattress, one of her hands lifting to her opposite cheek, she found her eyes falling closed. The heat of his chest slid along her side, firm against the small of her back. She could feel his breath, hot against her skin, his nose lightly grazing her. Intimacy, like that of which she'd only known with him, spread along her body, deep within her skin, filling her very bones, and making her heart skip a thunderous beat.

Pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade, his hand fell to her ankle, sliding slowly along her calf, pausing to tickle his fingers along the sensitive skin at the back of her knees. His thick chuckle could be felt against her back as she jumped at the sensation of his fingers. Soon his palm rose along the back of her thigh, full hand smoothing across her bare butt and gentling along the slope of her hips. The curve of his forefinger wandered the line of her spine, stopping at the nape of her neck before gliding back down. As his hand fell to the ankle of her opposite leg, he moved it back up until it lay between her thighs and then pushed her opposite limb, urging her to part them. Without pause, she drew her knee up so it lay flat against the bed.

She swallowed tightly, her teeth catching her lower lip as his warm hand cupped her thigh, fingers drawing suggestive circles, moving closer and then pulling away from her throbbing heat. His lips trailed kisses along her shoulders, nose nuzzling her affectionately, and she felt his smile as she harrumphed in frustration when his hand, his long fingers, were _so close_ to her now very _wet_ and wanting slit. Nipping the nape of her neck, he buried his face in her hair and without warning, plunged his finger deep inside her. On a choked sound of appreciation, her head fell forward while her hips lifted from the bed, rocking back into his hand. Finger buried deep in her tight passage, his thumb reached out to stroke her clit.

"Mmph," she cried, toes curling as his finger rubbed deep inside her, _just right_. "Ol-lieee…"

He chuckled lowly, adding a second finger and stretching her already quivering walls apart.

Shoulders tightening in response, her head hung loose from her neck as she tried to steady her breath.

Suddenly, she was on her side, her leg slung across his hip while his hand still pumped inside her, arm curled around her thigh. Face now buried in her neck, Oliver's body lay firm against hers, his prominent erection hard against her stomach. She couldn't decide between rocking closer to his hard cock or further into his already plunging fingers. As ripples of an orgasm fluttered along her thighs and tightened her heat, a flood of passion spilling into his hand and wetting her thighs, she was arched back in a bow of ecstasy.

She'd hardly caught her breath before he had her on her back, her thighs hitched high on his waist as he slid deep and hard inside her. His mouth along her throat was the opposite; slow and tender, taking the time to tease her flesh, while his hips were pumping against her, filling her quick and heavy, prolonging her orgasm into a second, more stimulating one that had her screaming hoarsely. Arms sliding around his back, her fingers dug into his flesh, nails scoring desperately.

His hips slowed as she road the high of her orgasm, his mouth finding hers, lips smooth, teeth nipping lightly. At some point while she'd been trying to catch her breath and still awash in euphoria, he'd lifted her so she sat in his lap. Opening her eyes, she found his head nestled between her chest, his chin perched at the valley of her breasts. He grinned, eyes darkening from chocolate to near black before he took one of her breasts into his mouth, tongue lashing her nipple, teeth grazing sensitive flesh. Hands buried in his hair, she tugged tight as he suckled and nibbled her and his hips began rocking faster.

Sliding down his damp neck, her hands fell to wander his back, fingers gliding along tightened muscles, feeling as his back tensed, his shoulders flexed. How a man who felt so hard, so very masculine could be so tender with her; how his mouth could feast on her with slow dedication while the tempo of his hips was raw and desperate was such a contradiction. She already knew what would come after, when he was spent and done for at least a few minutes; he'd lay her out on her back and tease her stomach with fluttering kisses, teeth nipping at random, making her laugh or gasp. He'd tease her wet heat with his tongue until she was begging for more and then he'd give her all that she wanted and needed with his fingers and his lips, until she was crying with the pure pleasure of it all. And when he was hard again, almost painfully so, he'd slide inside her and make slow, tender love until she couldn't keep going, until one more orgasm would lead to her passing out. Achy in the most incredible way, he'd wrap his arms around her and they'd talk in quiet whispers, about this and that, nothing important, until they fell into a peaceful sleep.

"Unh," she cried, eyes slamming closed as he hit just the right spot and sent her spiraling toward ecstasy while his hips continued to pump, rubbing himself against that tender, throbbing place inside of her that sent tidal waves of pleasure coursing through her veins. Her thighs shook with the intensity and as his teeth bit down on her nipple, she felt it consume her, doubling until she yelled his name at the top of her abused lungs. Nails tearing down his back, she gripped his waist tight with her thighs and held on for dear life.

Damp with sweat, sated and unable to do more than relax into his chest, she rested her face in the crook of his shoulder while he rubbed her back, mumbling soft words against her ear. When he rolled her onto her back, her arms fell atop the pillows around her head and she gave a long, appreciative sigh. He smirked at her, his hand sliding down her shoulder and between her breasts before resting on her still heaving stomach. Five years and she swore she fell more in love with him every day and night; it was those eyes and that touch and the scent of him that promised complete and utter satisfaction in ever fiber of their lives. From their work that could be so unbending but endlessly rewarding to their relationship, where she'd never felt more loved and appreciated before.

His mouth was on her stomach, those kisses fanning along her flesh with affection, and she buried her fingers in his hair. This was what they needed, what would keep them sane in those long days and weeks and _months_ of work that so few knew about. Them time; just him and her and enough time to remember what it was like to love and be loved by the right person. And if the ring winking on her finger as it slid through his sandy blonde hair said anything, it was that their life would be full of times like this. And she couldn't imagine it better spent doing anything else.


	149. It Began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following Disciple, Oliver and Chloe learn how to accept themselves as they are and overcome the darkness together.

**I.**

_It began with a laugh._

Oliver was feeling lighthearted; the overwhelming stress of the last while had finally fallen from his shoulders. With his mentor now in prison his own acceptance of whatever darkness might lay inside him, he was on cloud nine. After leaving the training room and a tired but upbeat Mia behind, he ventured back to his high-rise apartment. While some things were up, others were down. He wanted to be happy for Lois and Clark, but some part of him kept holding back. He wasn’t even sure if it was so much that he still loved her or that he was just scared he’d never find what he had with her in someone else.

As the elevator doors opened, he stepped into his apartment distracted. He was shedding his jacket when his instincts told him someone was there. After the last few days, he wasn’t going to ignore the alarm that prickled his skin. Silently he left the front foyer and crept into the darkness of his living room. There was a light on in the kitchen; his head said there was nothing of value there. Why would a thief be in his _kitchen_? Unless it was Bart looking for fuel…

Silently, he made his way closer to where the quiet noise of his intruder became more noticeable. Moving across shadows and ducking behind furniture, he rounded the counter to catch them unsurprised… and found Chloe glaring at him.

Hand on her chest, she frowned darkly. “What the hell, Oliver!”

Startled, he laughed. “Hey, you’re the one hanging around in my dark apartment, Sidekick. Shouldn’t _I_ be the one who’s upset?”

With a grumble, she rolled her eyes. “I was waiting for you, Jolly Green.”

He cocked a brow, surveying the area. “And you couldn’t turn on a few more lights?”

She shrugged. “I just got here… I didn’t feel like lighting up the place when I was only going to be sitting on your counters drinking coffee.”

Nodding, he looked her up and down with a furrow to his brow. “So…? What do you need?”

“Answers,” she said simply. Hopping up on the counter, she held a mug of coffee in her lap and stared at him seriously. “Not that I haven’t had my fair share of near-death experiences, but they don’t usually come in the form of a trusted friend.”

He half-smiled. “On the bright side, I’m not schizophrenic.”

She scowled. “Clark tell you?”

Oliver didn’t bother replying, instead pouring himself a mug of his own. “Look, Chloe… I can understand why you were worried… The guy I was… The guy _you_ had to drag out of a gutter… I’ll admit it was pretty hard to rectify who I was with who I am…” Turning, he leaned back against the counter, staring at her silently for a moment. “But I have,” he finally said.

Eyes narrowed, she stared as if reading him, as if she could take all of his knowledge and all of his self worth and evaluate it. “Good.”

He smiled, surprised. “That’s it?”

She lifted a shoulder. “What do you want me to say?” Cocking her head, she sighed. “I can’t make you see who you are… you have to see that for yourself. It was obvious that I woke you up after the whole Roulette debacle, but you were still confused… If you’ve come to terms with things, then yeah… _good_.”

He nodded, smiling to himself. And then he caught sight of the blood seeping through her jacket sleeve and a scowl permeated his face. Dropping his coffee to the counter, he crossed the space between them and tugged her coat down her arm.

“Whoa, Handsie… personal space is nice,” she argued.

He ignored her, instead peeling the now stained gauze from her bicep. “Tell me _exactly_ what happened,” he ordered darkly, his jaw tensing.

She sighed, unaffected. “I was doing my usual rounds, monitoring anything and everything… The alarm went of and then, suddenly, everything just shut down… For a second,” Her brow furrowed thoughtfully, “There was this image on one of my screens. A drawing; an archer… But then it was gone and everything was silent… And then I felt it… Someone _there_ , watching me…” She bit her lip for a second and shook her head as if ridding the feeling from herself once more. “I turned and he was standing there… He _looked_ like you, but… the feeling was all wrong. It was just… _weird_ …” With a shrug, she sighed. “He let loose an arrow, caught my arm and then he came closer, standing over me, arrow notched for a one shot deal straight to the heart…” She blinked. “If Clark hadn’t shown up, I think I might’ve been sharing a room with Lois at Met Gen…”

Oliver growled faintly, tracing the swollen flesh around her wound. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t’ve—“

“Ollie,” she interrupted gently. “This isn’t your fault.”

He glanced at her before looking away miserably. “No lovers, no allies, no disciples… I knew the code; they warned me long ago.”

“Yeah, well, no offense,” she snorted, “But that’s just ridiculous.”

Scowling, he refused to look at her, instead grabbing a fresh cloth and drowning it in hot water at the sink.

“Look, Vordigan and that whole Celtic sect… that was ages ago, that was a _different_ you… I understand making up for past mistakes and facing what you’ve done, but living your entire life based on those mistakes doesn’t make sense. You have to accept who you are _now_ and live as _that_ person. And _this_ Oliver,” she said, staring at him. “He’s the guy that saves the world and keeps the people safe…” She smiled, amused. “He’s the guy that cleans up his sidekick’s scrapes and bruises and tells her to get back in the pilots chair and keep this crazy League going.”

Gently washing away the blood from her arm, he let his eyes lift to hers. “And if who I was hurts those I know _now_?”

“Then you have to believe that the people you know now, the people who trust and care about you… They can _handle_ it.” Staring searchingly into his eyes, she reached out to cup his cheek, thumb stroking softly. “You’ve got a band of heroes at your back, Oliver… And we know you enough that whatever you did in the past doesn’t matter… It’s what you do now that we care about and it’s why we stick by you day after day.” With a grin, she added, “Now tape me back up, I’ve had very little sleep and too much excitement.”

Rolling his eyes, he smiled to himself, but did as he was told. “You and I both know you’re just going to go back to the Tower and glue your eyes to the screen.”

She scoffed. “What is it with your heroes? You always think you know what’s best for me.” Hopping down from the sink, she reached for her coat once more, but before she could get it on, Oliver squeezed her shoulder, stopping her.

“We’re worried about you.”

Chloe frowned. “I’m just doing my job.”

“I know and you’re incredible at it,” he assured honestly. “But there’s a world outside those screens and I don’t want you to get caught up in just watching and not joining.” Tugging on a tendril of her hair affectionately, he added, “You saved me, now let me help you before you need saving.”

Eyes narrowed, she pursed her lips. “All right, what do you propose then?”

He grinned. “Well, I’m still wired and really hungry, so how about a 24 hour diner, milkshakes on me, and we can come here and watch Pay-Per-View until we fall asleep?”

With a chuckle, she conceded. “All right…” Tugging her jacket closed, she hooked her arm with his when offered. “I like strawberry milkshakes.”

He scrunched up his nose. “Chocolate banana.”

“We’ll see,” she replied, grinning.

* * *

Three hours later they were sprawled on his couch, watching some romantic comedy with B-list actors in it and a ready-made plot that was easily deduced in the first five minutes. Using the arm of the couch as her pillow, Chloe’s legs were upturned, feet tucked between Oliver’s thigh to keep her toes warm. Lounging back on the other end of the couch, Oliver’s arm rested on Chloe’s legs, fingers drawing circles on her knee absently.

“I can’t remember the last time I actually relaxed and watched movies,” she admitted, brow furrowed. “Feels like forever ago.”

“It probably was,” he replied.

She sighed. “I think I’m punishing myself…”

Turning his head, he stared at her patiently.

“After Jimmy… It’s like…” She chewed her lip, turning her eyes up to avoid the burn of tears. “Like I don’t think I should be happy… That I can only work and get by and just… _be_ …”

Squeezing her knee, he shook his head. “That’s not the case, Chloe… What happened to Jimmy was… _awful_. But he wouldn’t want you to be like this… He loved you; your spunk and your tenacious personality. He’d hate that you became a shadow of yourself because of him.”

Sniffling, she shook her head. “I know, I just…” Lips wobbling, she swallowed tightly. “When I’m staring at those screens and I’m focusing on other people, on helping them or stopping them… then I don’t have to think about how much I screwed up my own life…” Reaching up, she quickly swiped the tears from her face. “Because I did… I messed it up so much, Oliver…”

Reaching out, Oliver grabbed her hand and hauled her up until she was in his arms, head buried against his chest. “You said it yourself, Sidekick… We can’t live our lives based on what we’ve done… We’ve gotta focus on the here and now and the us we really are.”

Hand clasped tightly to his shirt, she shook against him. “I don’t know how… I don’t… I’m always _alone_ and I just fall back on old habits. I—“

“Shh…” he soothed, stroking her hair. “So I’ll come get you… I’ll drag you out of your tower if I have to.”

When she chuckled lightly, he grinned.

“We’ll get through this together, all right?”

Sniffling, she glanced up at him. “You ever think when you met me I’d be crying all over your Armani dress shirt?”

He laughed, shaking his head. Kissing the top of her hair, he hugged her close. “We’re gonna be fine,” he decided.

And she really believed him.

* * *

 **II**.

_It began with a touch._

In the next few weeks, Oliver only let her work a regular eight hour shift and then he intervened. Occasionally, when things were of vital importance, he’d let her work overtime, but only if she let him help. They shared lunch at the same diner they had the first night and she was becoming a permanent fixture in his apartment now, given that hers was more of a work base than anything else. They took turns cooking dinner for each other, Oliver the first night, Chloe the second, and take-out the third. He convinced her to join him at baseball and basketball games, just for a night on the town. Not much of a sports junkie, she had to have him explain the game to her most of the time, but eventually she had her favorite teams which almost always opposed him for some healthy debate.

When her phone rang, more often than not, it was him.

“Chloe Sullivan reporting for duty,” she answered.

“You’ve got five minutes to power down the tower and then I’m coming in,” he warned, amusement in his voice.

She rolled her eyes. “Sir, yes sir,” she replied sarcastically.

“We’ve got reservations for dinner at six and the play starts at seven.”

Nose wrinkled, she muttered, “Which play?”

“I have no idea… I was given the tickets by an associate,” he admitted.

She snorted. “Lovely.”

“Be happy, Sullivan. You got a new dress out of it.”

Eyes narrowed, she muttered, “And where might this dress  _be?_ ”

“Check your bedroom.”

Scoffing, she rose from her seat. “Impossible. I haven’t moved from my desk in eight hours and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of y—“

There was a white box sitting in the center of her bed, mocking her.

His laughter rang through the phone before he hung up.

That gave her three and a half minutes to get dressed and out the door before he came in and forced her out.

It was a good thing she showered this morning and her job didn’t involve any physical labor. With a sigh and a smile quirking her lips, she crossed the room and drew out the green gown that slid sensually against her fingertips. She couldn’t wait to get it on.

* * *

In three weeks, she was fairly sure Oliver had converted half of her wardrobe to green. Dresses, blouses, accessories; it seemed he wanted to shower her with gifts every time he meant to take her out. She wasn’t exactly complaining, but she didn’t want him to think she stuck around for the shwag. It was the company and the feeling of lighthearted joy she got whenever she saw him. It was how she felt appreciated when he’d appear behind her and cover her hands with his so she’d stop typing at the computer before he whisked her away for a night void of wires and espionage.

So wearing a glittering emerald blouse and a black pencil skirt, she was actually  _happy_ to see the clock chime five-thirty and grinned with anticipation as the doors to her office were swung open and he came swaggering inside with a grin.

“Front row seats to the Lakers versus Bulls tonight,” he announced, waving the tickets for her to see. “We’re so close all you’ll see, hear and smell is sweat and cursing.”

With a laugh, she rose from her seat. “Do we have enough time to get there?”

“Jet is ready and fueled.” With a wink, he waited for her to cross to him. “And I already have your Bulls jersey waiting on the plane.”

She glanced up at him, frowning. “You didn’t get it dry cleaned, did you?”

Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he cocked a brow at her. “I know how much you love that  _disgusting_ blood stain, Sidekick. I wouldn’t want to tarnish your memorabilia.”

“Hey! It’s not every day that a pro basketball player’s shattered nose bleeds all over you!” she reminded, laughing.

“Which is much appreciated,” he replied, directing her out of the tower and toward the elevator.

After a ride over on the Queen private jet, and now wearing her bloody jersey, Chloe and Oliver made their way to their VIP seats at the game.

“He’s the one that bled on me!” she said, pointing at number eleven, Lindsey Hunter.

Just happy to see her happy, Oliver nodded, squeezing her knee to show his support in her enthusiasm.

Work was forgotten entirely as Chloe hooted and hollered for her Bulls while Oliver argued that the Lakers were better. In good fun, they sat side-by-side wearing opposing jerseys and supporting their teams. And when her Bulls won, Chloe jumped out of her seat and pumped her arms in the air with all the excitement of a kid. Despite his team’s loss, Oliver picked her up and hugged her close as she whooped for the Bulls.

And with an orange #1 foam finger on her hand, they left the stadium arm-in-arm, to catch a cab back to the airstrip where the jet was waiting to bring them home.

* * *

Awkward was not in Oliver’s vocabulary and having spent as much time as he had with Chloe, it wasn’t something that occurred between them. But there were moments when he would notice something between them that he’d never acknowledged before and it tended to put him on edge. Like when she returned from the back of the jet, tugging her green blouse back in place and a few inches of her soft, pale flesh was revealed, there was a moment where he wanted to reach out and touch it; just press his fingers to her exposed waist. Or when she asked him to do up her dress the night he took her out to a benefit dinner for the local hospital charity. He’s spotted green lace panties just below the small of her back and his fingers hovered against her long spine as he drew the zipper into place. There were times when he’d brush her hair from her eyes and his knuckles would graze her cheek and there’d be a sting in his chest of awareness. They were all little things, inconsequential really, but the need to touch her was building every day.

She left work early. He was surprised; he didn’t know what to say.

Standing in his office, she held a baggie and a coffee out for him. “Double double and a chocolate chip muffin,” she said, smiling.

He grinned, taking them from her hands. “You’re…”

“Early? Not working? Actually taking the opportunity to do something rather than wait for you to arrive?” She smirked. “All of the above.”

Chuckling, he sat down at the edge of his desk and parted the bag to pull out his muffin, amused when he found the bottom missing.

She winked. “You never eat the bottoms.”

He half-smiled. “The top is better.”

“Says you,” she argued.

Taking out his muffin top, he bit down on it, and cocked a brow as he waited for her to continue.

“Okay, so I don’t have basketball tickets  _buuut_ … I did make dinner and pack it in a very nice picnic basket, of which I plan for us to enjoy on your roof.”

He looked up and then blinked.

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Your apartment roof.”

“And to what do I owe this stroke of genius?”

She grinned. “That’s the best part… There’s a private band playing for some big shmoozey party like three buildings over. You were invited, you remember, but you don’t want to go.  _So_ … I figure dinner and music and no fake people. Just you, me, and a rooftop with music and food.”

His brows rose. “I’m impressed.”

“You should be,” she said, grinning. “So wear whatever’s comfortable and meet me on your roof in….” She checked her watch. “Two hours.”

With a nod, he agreed.

“Great. I gotta go; I still have a few things to tweak.” With a wave, she left, and Oliver sat back in his office, looking forward to their evening alone.

* * *

With wine, cold chicken, and a stomach full of pasta, Oliver and Chloe sat back on his roof, staring at the stars as music cascaded across the sky to lull them into comfort. Side-by-side in lounge chairs, Oliver stretched out in his favorite worn-out jeans and his college hoodie. A cool breeze made his ungelled hair flutter and as he looked out of the corner of his eyes, he saw golden locks of Chloe’s hair doing the same. She smiled as if she felt him watching.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he replied, grinning. “Just full and happy.” He patted his stomach approvingly.

She chuckled. “Glad I could help.”

“You have…  _a lot_. I don’t remember the last time I was  _half_ as happy as I am.”

Brow furrowing lightly, she turned to him. “Neither can I.”

Reaching out, he took her hand, threading their fingers and holding it close against his chest. “Maybe we’re good for each other then.”

“Yeah…” Her thumb stroked his palm gently. “I think we are.”

* * *

He began to consider work the nuisance; invading what time he had with Chloe. The more time they spent together, the more he craved being around her; her laugh and her wit and her brilliant smile. When he wasn’t working for QI and they weren’t involved in League business, he was spending his waking hours with her; from a simple walk in the park to dinner at the most exclusive of restaurants. Any fears he might’ve had that allies were unnecessary was completely wiped out; he couldn’t imagine what he’d do without her.

The old Oliver was gone; the man who second-guessed his actions, who longed for a woman who no longer loved him, who worried that he’d one day become a darker version of himself. The new him was happy and content with his life as it was. He had a woman in his life who knew  _all_ of him and believed in and trusted him. And if ever that darker part of him did take over, he knew that she would be the one to stop it. But what was better was that he didn’t think it could; he had learned from that dark half and he had overcome it. And more than that, he’d helped Chloe overcome her own dark side to return to the sweet and incredible woman she’d once been.

He walked into the watchtower with a skip in his step, already smiling.

She was crossing the room, still doing up the buttons on her blouse, and his throat went dry. There was navel and white flesh and his hands shook momentarily, like a boy seeing his first pretty girl. Just as quickly as he’d seen it, it was covered, tucked into the waistband of her skirt and smoothed down. When she stopped in front of him, she grinned.

“Ready?”

Unable to speak, he nodded.

The light bulb had just gone off. He was  _ready_. Ready to move on from Lois and focus his attention on a more worthy and accepting woman.

“Yeah,” he finally said with a short laugh. “I think I am.”

Instead of offering his arm like he usually did, he took her hand, their fingers linking. It was that soft touch he longed for that offered a prolonged calming sensation. Their hands fit together, their bodies fell into sync as they walked, and any doubt he might’ve had was nonexistent.  
  
All he had to do now was convince  _her_.

**[End]**


	150. All His

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nights, the few where neither of them were not heavily involved with paperwork or toddler tantrums or cousin-based emergencies that more involved man-(read: Clark) bashing, were all _his_.

**Title** : All His  
 **Category** : Smallville  
 **Genre** : Romance/Humor  
 **Pairing** : Chloe/Oliver  
 **Rating** : NC17  
 **Prompt** : [Picture](http://ellashy.livejournal.com/29747.html#cutid1) by [](http://ellashy.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ellashy.livejournal.com/)**ellashy**    
 **Word Count** : 3,691  
 **Summary** : The nights, the few where neither of them were not heavily involved with paperwork or toddler tantrums or cousin-based emergencies that more involved man-(read: Clark) bashing, were all _his_.

  
[](http://ellashy.livejournal.com/profile)[**ellashy**](http://ellashy.livejournal.com/)   
  
 ** _  
All His_**  
-1/1-

Chloe's life was hurried; it was hectic. She balanced work with the league, with her home life, and it all had its connective dots that argued for attention. Tonight, she helped bring down a company with big dreams of killing people and making money. She was the voice in the ear of a band of heroes that lived solely for the thrill of knowing the bad guy was beat and they'd have a beer later to celebrate their victory. She was the brains, the global intelligence, the 'Don't do that, do this,' that kept them alive and saved lives with the click-clack of fingers on a keyboard and too many hours to count spent digging up every detail possible.

With her ear piece safely put away, her day-job as a computer technician (in which she made the hours and got herself into some highly sensitive places to hack some serious Intel) put off until needed once more, and her one and a half year old son tucked away in his crib, snoring and holding tight to his favorite rabbit _Hiccup_ (for reasons unknown to anyone but Bart), she had only one person left to give her attention. She didn't count Archie -who was pawing at her bedroom door for some attention- a must on her list, especially since he spent most of his day following her around at the Watchtower getting pet and fed treats he didn't earn.

No, the nights, the few where neither of them were not heavily involved with paperwork or toddler tantrums or cousin-based emergencies that more involved man-(read: Clark) bashing, were all _his_. There were two glasses of white wine, barely touched, left chilled and sweating on the kitchen counter. What had started as flirty banter and a relaxing drink took the same turn it often did…

"Dark circles under the eyes a new fad, Professor?" he asked, staring at her with undisguised concern. The purse of his lips was an argument waiting to happen.

Hoping to put a stop to it, she grinned. "You were in Milan last week, you tell me."

The corners of his mouth quirked, but he wouldn't be so easily distracted. "What happened to eight hours of sleep and not taking that last tech job?" He cocked a brow. "What you said would only be three hours was just as many _days…_ "

Sighing, she lifted a shoulder, not really apologizing for her behavior. "We got a great lead out of it; what's a little lost sleep?"

He reached for her, large rough hand palming her cheek, thumb rubbing gently along the puffy sign of dedication beneath her right eye. "A little lost sleep here or there isn't bad, but you make a habit of it."

"I also make a habit of catching the bad guy and this was just another step toward that." Wrapping her own fingers around his wrist, she swiped her thumb along his pulse and felt it hammer as if every fiber of him was so keyed into her just her touch set his blood pumping. "Besides, I handed the reins over to Victor, despite my inner-protests; you should be doing a little victory dance."

He held his other hand aloft. "Wanna join me?"

She grinned. "As long as you don't touch the stereo… Connor's too light a sleeper and I don't want to put him down for a _third_ time." She cocked a meaningful brow.

He had the good grace to wince. "Sorry… I missed him today and I'd hoped to be back before bedtime… I didn't think the door would whine that much. We should

probably oil the hinges," he mused.

She snorted, and after dropping her wine glass to the counter took his hand and let him draw her into his embrace. Chests flattened together, her head tipped back to stare up at him. Frowning at his unruffled appearance, she shook her head. "How is it you work about the same amount of hours and you still look as good as ever?"

He grinned. "Queen family secret."

"Yeah?" Dragging her fingers up his neck, she buried them in his hair, nails grazing lightly along his scalp. "I can be very persuasive, you know…"

He barely suppressed a shiver. "Mm…" Leaning until their foreheads met, he murmured, "Until you say yes to my proposal and share my name, the family secret is _strictly_ forbidden."

Nuzzling his nose, she returned, "Forbidden is my forte." Nibbling his lower-lip with her teeth, she promised, "You'll crack."

"Gimme your worst." He caught her lips as a breathy chuckle escaped and before long, she was pressed against the kitchen counter, his hands roaming down her back, shoving clothes out of the way, exploring familiar curves.

Heady breathes were exchanged; she inhaled while he exhaled and vice versa, panting against mouths and necks and bare shoulders. He yanked her soft blouse out from the confines of her skirt and tore it open, smirking as buttons scattered across the floor. She cocked a knowing brow at his impatience. His face fell level with her chest, mouth scattering hot, wet kisses down pale, open flesh. He dragged his teeth along the tops of her breasts, delighting in how she shivered for him, her hands squeezing his shoulders tightly. Long, dexterous fingers slid down her back, taking her shirt with them, letting it slip from his grasp and fall lightly to the floor beneath. He tugged at her skirt, drew her so close she could feel the outline of his erection against her thighs.

She moaned in appreciation; eyes fluttering to half-mass.

Buttons and zippers were undone and lowered, hands gripping either side of her skirt and pulling until it came lose from her hips and pooled at her feet. He didn't waste time before lifting her up, drawing her legs around his waist and walking away from the scattered clothes and forgotten wine. En route to the bedroom, he hardly looked where he was going, trusting his feet to just get them there while he managed to unlock her front bra-clasp with his teeth.

She laughed. "Skills," she praised.

He grinned up at her before nuzzling the green lace cup of her bra out of the way, his cheek pressing warmly against the soft cushion of her breast. Chloe dragged her fingers through his hair, inhaling sharply as his tongue reached out to stroke her pebbled nipple. Rolling it between his tongue and teeth, he teased a breathless sigh from her lips, her legs squeezing tight around him. Hooded eyes stared down at him, darkening to a lustful green he welcomed every time.

When his legs hit the edge of the bed, he laid her back and knelt between her parted thighs. As he reached for his tie, she sat up, swatting his hands away before untying it for him and tugging it quickly out of the way. While she worked to undo each button on his shirt, he drew her bra over her head and down her arms before tossing it away to the floor. Unbuttoning his cufflinks, he shrugged away his shirt as she finished, parting the fabric and running her hands up the expanse of toned chest revealed.

Leaning down, he caught her mouth once more and leaned her back on the bed, the heat and weight of his body covering hers. Hands clasping either of his biceps, she sprawled beneath him, knees drawn up, soft thighs shaking as he slid between them. For a minutes it was just hands and mouths; fingers wandering and tongues tangling, she writhed as she fell happily into the drowning heat of _them_. Chloe was hard-pressed to remember a time when she and Oliver hadn't been together; when she hadn't felt the almost overwhelming _rightness_ of their relationship. If she took the time to delve into her memories, she'd be awash in the years before him; of a heart often broken by the neighbor farm-boy and later taped back together by a goofy photographer. The pangs of a girl often overlooked were that of a past she was glad to be rid of. She wasn't the same girl who fell for Clark or the hopeful woman who wanted _normal_ with Jimmy. She was a whole new breed of Chloe Sullivan; a woman who found herself after years of being lost. And after stumbling into Oliver's arms, she never wanted to leave.

If the way he still looked at her, still spoke of her and held her, was anything to go by, he didn't want her going anywhere either. If that weren't enough to convince her that forever was found and happy with him, she'd only have to listen and answer one of his many marriage proposals. It wasn't that she didn't want to be Mrs. Oliver Queen. After six years, a son, and a lifetime commitment to their band of heroes, she didn't think she was going anywhere, but sometimes she worried if she labeled it, if she put too much stock into it, it would disappear before her eyes.

Right now, there was just a very keen Oliver willing to do whatever he could to please her, to make her and their son happy, and she would rather deal with now than later.

His arousal lay hard against her soft stomach, his chest heaving with the effort as he dragged his hands down her sides and slid them between their bodies to cup and stroke her wet heat. Her toes curled tight as his fingers slid along her folds, thumbs rubbing circles into wet, sensitive flesh. A spasm rocked her hips forward, seeking the length of his finger buried inside her. He circled her clit instead; making her knees dig hard into his sides. As she panted, her attention more on his fingers than his mouth, he buried his face in her neck, lips journeying down her throat, across her heaving chest and lower still. His wet hands slid away, cupping her thighs as his mouth fell level with her navel, teeth nibbling along her flat stomach.

"Try to keep it down," he told her teasingly.

She glared as he chuckled before he lowered his face between her thighs and drew his tongue up between her parted, dewy slit.

As a heartfelt moan pleaded to escape, she bit her lip hard to keep it in. The last thing she wanted interrupting this was her son's cries for attention and as soon as her voice rose, she knew he'd be calling for them. Fighting the need to cover her mouth with her hand, she gripped the blanket tight in her fists and tried not to rock her hips up to his questing mouth. He'd only tease her more; she knew. His hot breath skittered along her splayed femininity; lips pressing light kisses, tongue stroking at random. Her lungs tightened as she forgot to breathe; as she fought the urge to beg him. Regardless of how much she wanted it, she refused to _ask_. His smirk would only lengthen and his ego was big enough.

Even as she thought it, she knew she'd be begging, asking, _pleading_ soon enough.

If there was an award for bed play, Oliver would have won it every year in a row. Quite possibly the most giving lover that ever lived, Chloe swore to all that was holy that he made her body an instrument of singular euphoria each and every time. With roaming fingers that touched at just the right angle at the right time and a mouth that followed the same line of thinking, it never took long for her to start writhing beneath him. After all their years together, he always knew when she was about to climax and he lived on prolonging it. When she'd beg him to speed up, he'd slow down. When she could feel it right there, right at the precipice, he would stoke the fire but not let it roar. Until she was nearly in tears, nails scoring his shoulders, and then he'd give in and he'd make sure she _felt_ it, three times over.

Lying back on the bed, panting harshly, she could still feel the tremors coursing through her body. She pressed a hand to her heart as if she feared it would jump right out at any second. He climbed up her body slowly, slow kisses along her ribs, tongue reaching out to swipe away a bead of sweat. His hips fell between hers and she could feel him hard and ready against her slit and even as she felt her swollen core still vibrating from the onslaught of his tongue, she arched up, wanting him inside. He chuckled against her neck, his smile widening. With a nibble to her earlobe, he rolled her onto her side and slid up behind her, arm anchored around her waist, and then in a move he'd perfected some years ago, lifted them up to their knees, her legs parted.

She fell back against him, her head rolling to his shoulder. His hands slid down her bent legs, massaging the tops of her thighs in slow, kneading circles, before he splayed his wide palms along the flare of her hips, squeezing. Face buried in the crook of her neck, he kissed a path all around and up along the shell of her ear. Arms wrapped around her, muscled biceps flexing at her sides, he slid one hand down to cup her heat while the other palmed her far breast. Mouth parted, she gasped low and breathy, eyes fluttering. His fingers parted her folds, rubbed her clit gently but enough to get her hips rocking in response. She turned her head to look at him, at the tight planes of his face that wanted nothing more than to bury deep inside her and stay there. The brown of his eyes had darkened to near black, a tell-tale sign she'd learned long ago meant any control he had left was slipping away. Her lips curved. She loved that she had that affect on him.

Arching her hips back, she swirled them, letting her wet heat rub down against the length of his cock caught between her thighs. Without taking him inside, she let her folds envelop him, her arousal coat him. With a hiss in her ear, he clutched her breast harder and jerked against her. Reaching her arms back, she slid her fingers through his hair before dragging them down his neck and scraping her nails across his shoulders. Just as she had expected, he responded to the faint pain and drew back quickly before angling and pumping inside her. Her cry was muffled as his mouth found hers, lips sealed against her own, tongue probing, finding and dancing with hers. He was still for a long moment and she could feel every inch of him, confined tight inside. She clenched, smirking as his arm tightened around her.

Their mouths parted slowly, panting breaths between them, and she lifted up a few inches, feeling as he slid out of her. Their own brand of see-saw followed, with her lifting and him falling and then vice versa. His hand stayed busy between her thighs, the other occasionally tweaking her nipple between his ring- and pinkie fingers. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out; instead letting out low grunts from her chest. Before Connor, they could have been as loud as they wanted and they quite possibly pushed the sound barrier, but since his birth they'd had to keep it down. Oliver had a running joke of just making their bedroom soundproof and at the moment, with him thrusting deep inside and a scream desperate to escape her raw throat, she _really_ liked that idea. In fact, if she could move a meeting she had tomorrow, she was having a contractor come in to do just that and then she and Oliver were going to test it, over and over and over again.

But for right now, she had to keep it in. So when her orgasm crashed over her, sending little shards of pleasure all throughout her body, she threw her head back against his shoulder and clenched her teeth tight. Her hips arched, jerking hard as she wanted more and yet wasn't sure she could take it. He nibbled the tendon of her neck, swirled his hips and slowed down, letting her come back and calm a little before he'd do it all over again. He panted against her cheek, his hands falling to rub at her stomach and her sides, soothing and warm, and she swallowed tightly. Oliver had a way of making her feel cherished with every little thing he did. It wasn't the security of never having to worry about money with him or knowing that no matter how bad the world got she had her own personal hero. It was the knowledge that this man, flesh and blood, cared so much for her he would do absolutely anything in the world to make her happy. She'd never quite known that before him.

And the only thing he asked in return, the only thing that was sure to make him as happy as her, was that she break down and say yes to his proposal. But even that wasn't something he forced on her. She could see sometimes that faint disappointment as his smile faded ever so slightly when she dodged yet another suggestion that they get married and she hated it; hated that her saying no could hurt him even a little bit. He and Connor were her everything and she would do anything within her power to keep them happy. Her fears had no logic behind them, not really. To say yes didn't mean he was going to up and disappear on them. This was real; this was their life. And her accepting, becoming his wife, would only be one more step toward their happily ever after.

Nearly all thought escaped her then as he sped up once more, moving deep and quick and filling her every shaking inch. It would go on for an hour before he'd give in to his own desires. His lips parted at her cheek, panting harshly, her name a cracked exclamation as he held her tight and arched his hips hard up into hers. Delirious, her eyes nearly closed, she'd cry out his name without thinking. "Yes, Ollie! _Yes!_ " And they'd float there a moment, each of them blissfully unaware of anything but each other. Of sweat-slickened skin and deep, heaving breaths, and her soft cheek beneath his mouth, his nose nuzzling her lightly. Until finally, he'd rest his chin on her shoulder and just hold her, their hands stacking atop each other's at her waist. She'd lay her head sideways, letting their cheeks touch and for a moment, she swore she could feel his heart against her back, beating in time with her own.

"Mummy-Daddy! Mummy-Daddy!" Connor cried out then.

Chloe's lips curled at the corners.

"Your fault," Oliver said, amusement filling his voice.

She half-rolled her eyes but didn't argue.

He kissed her shoulder and sat back. "I'll get him."

"Mummy-Daddy! Mummy-Daddy! Og-Key! Og-Key! Og-Key!" Connor excitedly yelled again, no doubt jumping in his crib.

Archie pawed the door again as if he knew Connor was calling for him, too. His _Og-key_.

While she laid back on the bed, still humming all over, she watched Oliver stop in their bathroom, clean up and bit and then don his house coat. She grinned again. As a not so subtle hint last Christmas, Oliver had bought her a green silk robe to match his, even having her initials embroidered on the pocket. Except that it read _CQ_ rather than _CS_ … And as her chuckle faded she remembered the conclusion she'd come to before.

He was reaching for the door handle when she called his name.

"If you're about to ask for coffee, no way. You're cut off. You need to sleep and caffeine is only going to encourage you to work." He narrowed his eyes at her playfully.

She licked her lips, torn between arguing that coffee would be good right now and letting it go. "No, not that… Although I have a valid argument just waiting…"

He half-rolled his eyes, grinning to himself.

She took a deep breath, wondering how to word it and then frowned. " _Yes_ ," she finally said.

"Yes?" His brows furrowed and he shook his head. "Yes to wh—" He paused, suddenly staring at her thoughtfully. His brows arched high, wide and… _hopeful_. "Yes?"

She nodded, chewing her lip.

He laughed then, a low rumble of approval, and crossed the room, bending next to the bend to take her face in his hands and draw her in close. "If I knew a few orgasms would change your mind…"

She laughed, slapping his shoulder playfully. "Shut up."

He kissed her again, lingering, leaning her back against the bed once more.

"Mummy-Daaaddyyyy!" Connor squealed again.

Sighing, Oliver drew back. "Okay… I'm going to go put him back to bed… Cover your ears, I might have to sing." She chuckled. "And then I'm making sure you don't change your mind." He kissed her once more, short but hard, and then stood up and backed toward the door. "Still yes?"

She waved him off, snorting.

With a smirk, he left the room to tend to their son and Chloe laid back, head atop the pillow and smiled up at the ceiling. It hadn't caved in, the world still spun, Oliver was still there and judging by his off-key singing in the other room, he and Connor weren't going anywhere. Letting her eyes close, she accepted this fate with arms wide open and refused to let her fears get the better of her.

A half hour later, when Oliver returned to find her fast asleep, he didn't wake her. They could celebrate in the morning. Now that she said yes, he wouldn't let her go back on it. It only took six years of convincing, but he'd finally gotten what he'd always wanted. Her. She was all his and he wasn't giving her back.  
  
[ **End.** ]

 


End file.
